


Jump The Shark: The Next Generation

by LaMepriseFangirl



Series: Shannon's Canon!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, demon blood angsting, nachtkrapp, original monster of the week, soulless!sam did bad things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMepriseFangirl/pseuds/LaMepriseFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters like to talk about "blood" to mean family. They never stopped to think about what exactly is in Sam's blood and what it might mean for his offspring. Sam never stopped to wonder if any of the dozens of women he slept with while soulless got knocked up.</p><p>Set after 9x10, but plotted out before it aired, going off the preview.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. THEN

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at writing a fanfiction in the format of an episode of Supernatural, because the idea came to me as an idea for "a bad episode of Supernatural." (My title is better than the episode concept, in my opinion.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is combining the THEN and teaser portions of an episode, so it's choppy.
> 
> Warning for drunk!dub-con at the end. Not explicit.
> 
> Scenes in this chapter are taken from 8x12, 8x18, and 8x21, hence they are even more not-mine than the characters/concepts/etc.
> 
> Supernatural (c) the CW

A dark-haired man wearing a blue suit with white button-up shirt sits in a chair. Another man is holding him by his lapel and pointing a gun. The dark-haired man is shocked about something.

"John Winchester is your father?" he asks. The man with a gun backs off and exchanges looks with a third man who is very tall and has long hair. A loud rattling noise begins. "What is that?" the man in the suit asks. He stands up, alarmed, as the quaking intensifies. "Oh, my god."

"What?" asks the man who had the gun. He has green eyes and a deep voice.

" _Run._ "

An armoire suddenly opens with a flash of white light and a red-haired woman wearing a bloody dress steps out.

"Henry," she says to the man in the blue suit. She laughs and draws closer. "Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But then spells never were your best subject, were they?" Looking around at all three men, she continues, "Why don't you be a doll and give me what I want? And I promise to kill you and your friends here quickly."

The man in the blue suit shakes his head.

"You know I can't do that."

"You're not a fighter, Henry." As she says it, the green-eyed man with a gun tries to shoot her, but with a flick of her wrists she sends both him and the long-haired man flying into opposite corners of the room. She blocks Henry's path. He looks into her eyes.

"Josie, I know you're still in there. You must fight this."

"I'm afraid Josie's indisposed, pet. It looks like it's just you and me."

The green-eyed man comes out of nowhere and stabs the woman in the back with a knife. She falls to her knees, screaming in pain as her body flashes yellow, but the flickering fades and her gasps of pain reduce to light panting.

"Well that is no way to treat a lady," she remarks.

The three men run from the room. They get into a black car and are driving away, tires squealing before the car door is even shut.

* * *

 "Mommy!" a little girl screams, thrashing in her blankets. Within a few seconds, a lamp is turned on. A brunette woman in worn-out sweats gets out of a bed on the other side of the room and goes to the crib where the little girl is crying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she asks, taking the toddler out with significant effort—the little girl is big enough to be in a toddler bed. Sobs and hiccups punctuated every few words:

"There were men in a room. And then a red-haired lady with blood on her came out of a closet. A man stabbed her with a knife and she didn't care and the men ran away because they were scared of her."

"It was just a bad dream, Olivia. Don't worry," the girl's mother says. Olivia cries and clings to her mother.

* * *

 It's night. The spring peepers are making a racket. The man who had held a gun and the long-haired man leave a house.

"This is crazy."

"Is it?" the long-haired man replies. "They got a pretty good life."

"Kids aren't supposed to hunt, Sam," the other man says as if the long-haired man is missing something obvious.

"We did."

"Yeah, and look what it did for us."

"Well, maybe they're doing it right. Maybe they can hunt and have a real life."

"You know that's not true."

Sam is losing patience with the stubborn man.

"Why, 'cause it didn't work for us?"

"Because it doesn't work for anybody," the other man says, stopping and turning around to face Sam.

"Okay," Sam says, holding up his hands, "Then what do you wanna do? 'Cause Victor's not gonna stop this."

The other man pauses.

"They said they were hunting a nest, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let's hunt them for 'em. That way, until we can figure out what to do with Victor, they stay safe."

Sam nods in agreement.

* * *

 

"Mommy," Olivia says as her mother helps her get dressed in worn clothes, "I had another dream about the hunters."

"What hunters?"

"The men I have dreams about sometimes. They hunt things. One of them is named Sam."

The woman frowns as she puts a knitted hat on Olivia's head.

"They're... they're just dreams, Livvie."

* * *

 Olivia is playing with building blocks with another child in a well-lit room in a daycare center when suddenly she shrieks in pain and starts crying. A blonde woman dashes to her side.

"Rebecca!" the woman calls over her shoulder as she kneels next to the little girl. Olivia clutches at her head and shuts her eyes tight, tears of pain running down her cheeks.

* * *

 Dean opens a door into a corridor, letting Sam go before him. Sam's face is pale and his eyes are red; he clutches the doorframe as he passes through as if he's dizzy

"I should be taking you to the ER," Dean grumbles.

"They can't do anything for me. ...You know, I've been remembering things, little things, so clearly-"

"What, donkey rides?" Dean deadpans as they walk down the corridor.

"You used to read to me," Sam continues, keeping one hand on the wall to steady himself and gesturing with the other. Dean watches him with concern, ready to guide him back to bed. "Um, when I was little, I- I mean, really little, from that... from that old, uh... Classics Illustrated comic book. You remember that?"

"No."

"Knights of the Round Table." Sam is intent on putting his words together coherently. "Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and he was kneeling, and... and light streaming over his face, and I remember thinking, um... 'I could never go on a quest like that.' " He's stopped and is facing the other man. Dean waits. " 'Because... I'm not clean.' " Dean closes his eyes for a brief moment, knowing where this is heading. "I mean, I w- I was just a little kid. You think... maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that... I had-" Sam has a hard time saying it aloud, even though it's not news to either of them. "-demon blood in me? And about the _evil_ of it, and that I'm- _wasn't_ pure?"

"Sam, it's not your fault."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Because these trials—they're purifying me." Sam smiles, his eyes looking a little wetter than before.

* * *

 Rebecca holds Olivia close, rocking her in her arms.

"What's wrong, honey?" she whispers when Olivia opens her eyes.

"I saw the men again. I've never seen them when I was awake before."

Rebecca freezes.

"The men? Dean, and, uh..." Rebecca had forgotten what Olivia said the other one's name is.

"Sam." Olivia's voice drops to a whisper. "Mommy, Sam was like me."

"What do you mean?"

"He felt... not clean." Normally she wouldn't know how to use the word outside of the most obvious context but it made sense to her when she heard it. "When he was little, like me."

"You are clean, Olivia." Her mother looks her over, confused.

"No, not clean... inside."

"What are you talking about? You're perfect the way you are. There's nothing wrong with you, inside or out," Rebecca says firmly.

"Then why don't I have a daddy?"

The question is a shock to Rebecca.

"...Everybody's family is different, Livvie. Our family is just the two of us. It's not wrong for being different. You have nothing to do with why your daddy isn't around."

Rebecca only knew Olivia's father for a short time. A very, _very_ short time.

* * *

 Rebecca was walking back to her apartment one May or June night in 2010 after having a couple drinks with friends to celebrate the end of finals—the end of another year of college.

It was late and no one was around except for a man behind her who was closing the distance between them fast. Rebecca slowed down and tensed. She turned around abruptly to face the man. He tried to grab her and she promptly kneed him in the crotch.

To her surprise and terror, he was barely affected. She turned and ran down a nearby alley, searching for somewhere to hide. The man gave chase and caught her, clamping a hand over her mouth before she could scream. She struggled against him and bit his hand. His skin slipped off, bloody, like he was shedding, and she wasn't sure if she was more disgusted by the flesh that had come off his palm or horrified that whatever was attacking her probably wasn't human.

Out of nowhere, a huge guy appeared and pulled Rebecca's attacker away from her, plunging a knife into his throat. He let the corpse fall, the wound sizzling quietly, and Rebecca was awestruck.

"Thanks," she breathed after she spat out the flesh that had come off into her mouth. Without thinking, she reached up and kissed her savior on the mouth. When she pulled away, his eyes were wide and shocked—and hungry. Her primary thought after that was that his hair was kind of long for a guy, but she liked it. She liked his sideburns, too.

He read the attraction in her eyes and a downright sinister smile appeared on his face.

"I... uh... I've never done this before," Rebecca said, half-giggling. She'd always wanted to do something completely reckless and crazy like a casual, no-questions-asked hookup, and the adrenaline and alcohol in her blood demanded she do it now. A little voice in her head screamed _What the hell are you doing with this creep?!_ and she ignored it.

The guy backed her against the wall and put his hands on her hips. She put her arms around his neck as they kissed again. One of his hands slid down and then slipped under her skirt.

He broke the kiss.

"Sure?" he asked.

Rebecca gave it a moment's thought.

"Nope," she said, grinning and kissing him again.

Rebecca lost track of time quickly. She didn't remember what time it was when she left the bar, only that it was shortly before closing. The sky was beginning to lighten when she and her sketchy knight-in-shining-armor mutually decided they'd had enough.

They were both panting and sweating. The man had had her up against the wall and he let her down carefully.

She leaned against the wall waiting for her limbs to stop feeling like gelatin, her eyes closed. _Best bad decision ever_ , she thought.

She opened her eyes in time to see the guy zip himself up, retrieve the knife from the corpse on the ground, and walk away. She felt a little sad she'd never see him again.

* * *

 In the present, not quite three and a half years later, Rebecca doesn't want to see the asshole who took advantage of her ever again, but at the same time, if anyone has answers as to why Olivia is seeing the same two men over and over, in dreams and now suddenly in a waking vision, it would be her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SUPERNATURAL SEASON 9 TITLE CARD]
> 
> My sister noted that in "Remember the Titans" (season 8), which has a more-than-similar premise, Prometheus' kid is named Oliver. I guarantee it's just an incredibly awkward coincidence.


	2. NOW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural (c) the CW

Dean sits in a chair next to Sam's bed. His hands are folded together and he watches Sam, nothing but concern and fear in his face.

Sam stirs and wakes up.

"Sam?" Dean doesn't even care how pathetic he sounds.

"Dean... what happened?" Sam blinks and sits up, looking around. It's his bedroom in the bunker; nothing is out of place.

"Uh, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh... Crowley sticking metal into my head I think, people talking about an angel... Before that, working on that, uh... born-again biker gang thing, I think?"

"You don't remember... Okay, Sam, I, uh... I have to tell you some stuff. You're not gonna like it."

Sam crosses his arms and sighs. His eyes close.

"What?"

Dean takes a deep breath.

"The trials really took a toll on you, man. I know you're sick of hearing me say that, but I mean _really_ took a toll. More than you know. I took you to a hospital. You were in a coma; you were going to die. And I couldn't just..."

Sam's eyes open at "going to die."

" _Dean. What the fuck did you do._ "

"I- I prayed. An angel came, he said his name was Ezekiel, he said he could heal you—from the inside. So I helped him trick you into saying yes to let him in."

"You _tricked_ m-" Sam looks away, mouth slightly open in his far too familiar expression of furious incredulity.

Dean's voice is quiet and pained and pleading.

"You never would have said yes. You would have died."

Sam looks Dean right in the eye, ready with an angry retort, but he sees tears in his brother's eyes. He bites his tongue to keep from saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"So what happened after that?" he asks finally. "Other than you lying to me every damn day."

Dean tells Sam about Gadreel and how he was healing Sam but then Metatron got to him. He tells Sam about making a deal with Crowley—neglecting to mention precisely how the deal was sealed—and about what they did to Gadreel, who'd implied Sam was gone, until they learned Sam was still in there after all. He tells Sam why the anti-possession tattoo is gone. He tells Sam that Cas is an angel again.

"What about Kevin?"

"Kevin was on Metatron's hit list."

"He's dead?"

Dean nods. Sam takes a few seconds to take that in, process that Kevin is dead. Then his face hardens and he glares at Dean.

"I killed him, didn't I."

"Gadreel-"

"Gadreel was the one who did it, I know. Wasn't me, it was just the angel you let into my body."

Dean doesn't have anything to say to that; he blames himself already. Sam's too angry to take pity.

"Okay, let's recap: after you stopped me closing the gates of Hell, you let an angel into my body even though you knew I'd rather you let me die, the angel killed Kevin, you enlisted Crowley to get the angel out, and when that didn't work, you let the King of Hell fucking _possess_ me and rewarded him by letting him walk free."

"What would you have done?" Dean demands—their favorite knee-jerk defense for every time one of them does something stupid.

Sam's over the edge and doesn't think about if he means it nor whether he'll regret saying it.

"I would have put a friggin' bullet in my brain before letting that happen!"

Dean opens his mouth to respond but there are no words for when someone says something so cruel. He gives up and leaves the room.

"Dean..." Sam tries as the door shuts behind his older brother.

Dean probably doesn't want to talk about it. He probably wants to drown his feelings in alcohol the way he no doubt has been since Kevin died. Sam doesn't care; he gets out of bed and staggers to the door on weak legs. He can guess where Dean's gone.

* * *

 

Dean's in the kitchen, his back to the doorway. Sam watches Dean looking through the shelves and failing to find anything stronger than beer. He gives up and grabs an empty bottle of bourbon and throws it against the wall. Sam flinches as it shatters.

It's so quiet that for a few seconds he can still hear the tinkling of shattered glass.

"I didn't mean that."

"You didn't mean to _say_ it," Dean replies, staring in the direction of the broken glass.

"I shouldn't have even thought it. You had no idea all that would happen." Sam cuts himself off before he admits, _I would've said yes if I thought you would kill yourself if I died._ Can't go giving Dean leverage if it happens again.

Dean doesn't give even the smallest indication he feels better. Sam still isn't forgiving him, anyway.

* * *

 

"In a town in Maryland-" Sam glances up from his laptop to check if Dean's paying attention. "-three children have disappeared without a trace in the past three days. No witnesses for the first two, but the last abduction was witnessed by a Mr. Robert Jordan, who insists he saw, get this, a giant bird snatch up the kid."

"Think it's a case?"

"No, I just thought you'd appreciate hearing about it," Sam says. Dean rolls his eyes at the sarcasm.

"It's the full moon, isn't it? Is there such thing as 'werebirds'?"

Sam shrugs.

"We'll find out."

Dean thinks something over for a few seconds.

"Sam, are you sure you want to do a case now? You just woke up-" Dean pauses when he sees Sam's expression. He gulps and finishes quietly, "...yesterday." Sam continues to stare, just to drive the point home. "...But ...you're probably fine."

"I just want to get back to work."

Sam hasn't told Dean yet that when he woke up this morning, he had regained some memory from the past couple weeks. He remembers Crowley appearing and instructing him on how to get Gadreel out, but not many of Gadreel's experiences are there. He doesn't want to remember being Gadreel.

* * *

Sam and Dean don't talk much driving to Maryland. Dean keeps the music turned up to cover the silence.

Sam can't completely blame Dean for Kevin's death and the fact that Crowley is walking free, but he wishes Dean could have let him go for good. He wishes he knew when Dean would let him go. Nobody lives forever.

Sam turns off the music. Dean shoots him a death-glare.

"Dean, I'm going- _we're_ going to die for good someday."

"Yeah, well, it's not today."

"Can we just... agree that we won't-"

"We have an agreement not to try to bring each other back and we know it doesn't mean squat."

"I know. But I'm not waiting for the next time I almost die and you pull something stupid. I'm sick of people getting hurt for me. I want you to promise me that at some point you will just let me go."

"What do you mean, some point?"

"We get to a certain age."

"I'm not making up a best-by date for you."

"Then something else. When we're too weak to stab monsters. When we get Alzheimer's and can't remember each other."

"Sam, you can't just ask me to decide something like this."

"Then take a week. Take a month. Just choose something and we'll promise after that happens, we won't try to bring each other back, or get ourselves killed."

Dean looks at Sam and turns up the music again.

* * *

 

They arrive at their motel room around mid-morning and get to interviewing the victims' families right away. They go to talk to Mr. Jordan last.

Dean's phone rings just before he rings the doorbell on Mr. Jordan's house.

"Agent Harrison," he says as a greeting. "... Okay, I'll be right over." He ends the call and puts his phone back in his pocket. "That was Alexis's mom. Her sister, last person to see her alive, just got home. I'm going to head back there and talk to her."

"What, am I just gonna walk back to to the motel from here?"

"No, you're gonna walk to that diner two blocks away and meet me there for lunch. I'm starving."

Sam nods and Dean turns around. Sam rings the doorbell and the door opens by the time he hears Dean start the car.

A middle-aged man with thinning, gray-streaked brown hair and a bronze and black dove perched on his shoulder stands in the doorway.

"Robert Jordan?"

"That's me." Mr. Jordan's dark brown eyes peer through his bifocals at Sam. He frowns. "If you're trying to give me magazines-"

"Agent Starkey, FBI. I'd just like to ask you a few questions about Dylan Smith's disappearance."

"The police and reporters didn't get enough? You need to laugh at me in person?" The man, already mildly rotund, sputters and puffs up indignantly.

"The FBI is conducting a separate investigation," Sam says. He pauses as the dove on the older man's shoulder begins cooing, puffing up its throat as if it were mocking its owner. "I'd just like to know what you thought you saw and heard that night."

"Come in," Mr. Jordan says, slightly gruff. He closes the door behind Sam and leads him to a living room. Aside from the usual features of a living room, one wall is entirely taken up by birdcages. There's a variety of colors and shapes within the flock, but all of the birds look at least vaguely like doves. Nearly half of them are cooing in response to the one on Mr. Jordan's shoulder.

Sam sits on a sofa that faces the birdcage wall and Mr. Jordan sits in the nearby chair.

"So, Mr. Jordan, what exactly did you see?"

"I was in here. All of the doves got really nervous all of a sudden—went quiet and real skinny—and I wasn't sure what scared them. I looked out that window-" He gestures at a window facing towards his backyard. "-and I saw Dylan in his backyard. It was dark out but the back light was on so I could see he had a jar. He was trying to catch fireflies."

"Do doves normally get upset by that?"

"No, never. Pretty sure they didn't even know Dylan was out there. Anyway, I looked away for just a second and then I heard a sound like glass shattering. I looked, and Dylan had dropped the jar and there was a huge, a really huge black bird, like a raven, grabbing him with its claws. It shook him once and I heard his neck snap..." Mr. Jordan trails off.

Sam gives him a few seconds before prodding him.

"What happened next?"

"It flew off with him," the man finishes.

Sam turns his head when he hears footsteps. A woman walks into the living room. As she moves to stand beside Mr. Jordan, Sam notices how very similar they look. Their eyes are the same; the woman has only a little more gray in her hair than Mr. Jordan. She looks him over through her bifocals the same way, too.

"Lorrie," Mr. Jordan says to her, "this is Agent, uh, Starkey. Agent, my sister Lorelei."

"Hi," Sam says with a smile.

"Hi. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"No, thank you. ...Lorelei, you didn't see or hear anything that night, did you?"

"You're talking about the night that boy was taken, right? No. I go to bed early."

Sam nods acknowledgment before looking at Mr. Jordan again.

"Can you be more precise with your description of the bird?"

Mr. Jordan pauses, thinking. He scratches his nose. Then he shakes his head.

"It was just a giant raven-I could tell from the shape of the head. The wingspan might have been fifteen, twenty feet."

"Anything else out of the ordinary happen that night? Sounds, smells, absolutely anything."

The man shakes his head again.

* * *

 

Sam leaves Mr. Jordan's house and walks down the front porch steps.

He expects to hear Dean say something like _"So, we still thinking a 'wereraven' or a skinwalker?"_ before he remembers Dean isn't with him.

Abruptly, he misses Kevin. Dean burnt the body, so he hasn't had much of a chance to say good-bye. He's grateful he still has no memory of killing Kevin. He doesn't know where it happened, nor the cause of death, and he doesn't want to. If it was in the bunker, he'd never be able to go in that room again, whichever one it was.

He lets his mind wander as he ambles down the sidewalk. Kevin hadn't even reached his twentieth birthday. He'd had most of his life ahead of him.

Sam gave up on "It's not fair," years ago, but the sentiment comes to mind anyway.

 _I'm so sorry, Kevin, wherever you are,_ he thinks.

"Sam!" a little girl's voice yells from behind. Sam betrays himself and turns around. There's a woman and tiny girl coming towards him, the girl running as fast as she can and the woman following at a quick but reluctant pace.

"I'm sorry," the woman says, "My daughter's-" She gets a clear look at Sam's face and it's like the words are caught in her throat. Her jaw drops in shock. Sam looks between her and the little girl. Both their faces seem vaguely familiar. He could swear he's met the woman before.

"How do you know my name?" Sam asks them.

The girl, little more than a toddler, answers with a dimpled smile that erases most of the creepiness:

"I see you. I see you and Dean."

The woman—an extremely attractive woman probably in her early thirties with light brown hair and dark blue eyes—can't stop staring although she's collected herself a little.

Finally Sam remembers where he's seen the face before and in what context.

"I know you! You're..."

He thinks back: a back alley in a city late at night, the smell of blood in the air mixed with the taste of alcohol in her mouth. He'd killed a shifter. It was just after he was raised without his soul; she was drunk. _"Sure?" "Nope."_ Sam can't suppress a horrified cringe. He'd technically raped her. _Oh fuck. That was... that was really bad. No wonder she doesn't look happy to see me. What the hell do I say_ to _her?_

"Oh god... I- I am _so_ sorry for doing that. Please believe me."

She doesn't show any signs of belief or disbelief. Sam looks down at the little girl again, studying her. No one says a word. All of her facial features can be assigned to either her mother or Sam, except eye color. Her eyes are the same color as Dean's.

There's no doubt about it, so he doesn't ask.

"What did you mean, you see me?" he asks her, trying to keep his voice normal.

This time her mother answers for her.

"She used to have bad dreams, then she started having bad headaches and then... visions."

She's saying more but Sam can't hear her or even really see her. He can only feel his blood running cold.


	3. Nachtkrapp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting now, POV changes are marked with D, S, or R.
> 
> Supernatural (c) the CW.

**S**

The Impala is parked outside the diner by the time Sam gets there. He's dawdled to give himself time to recover from what just happened.

What _did_ just happen?

A woman showed up on the street with a psychic kid who also happens to be his kid. There was a short exchange. She gave her first name and her daughter's first name. Olivia already knew Sam's name. Rebecca said she couldn't spare any time and Sam gave her his phone number. He didn't have a chance to think about whether that might be a bad idea. Rebecca led Olivia back to where they came from. Sam eventually snapped out of the daze, turned, and resumed his course.

He reflects that sometimes, really big news has to arrive at an inconvenient time. Being informed that a questionable hookup three years ago resulted in a kid can't always happen when both parents have time to sit down at the park and talk for three hours.

So he has a daughter. That makes him a father, a dad. He's not the youngest generation of Winchester (or Campbell) anymore. There's a whole tiny and decidedly adorable person he contributed towards, who's half Sam Winchester.

"Sam Winchester" includes demon blood, apparently.

What's really bothering him here, Sam asks himself, the fact that Olivia inherited this, or the verification that demon blood is an intrinsic, definitive part of him?

* * *

**D**

"What took you so long?" Dean asks as Sam sits down across from him.

"I didn't take that long," Sam shrugs after checking his watch.

Dean studies his face. General sadness has been emanating from his little brother for the past two days but now he looks downright stressed, just-got-some-really-bad-news stressed.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Sam answers too quickly, derailing the topic. "What happened with Alexis's sister?"

As worried as he is now, Dean is relieved they don't have to add to their pile of recent depressing conversations.

"Kid didn't tell the police everything the first time they came around. They never do. Nina and Alexis share a room. Alexis got out of bed around 11:30 and told Nina she was going for a midnight snack."

"But her mom said a pair of her shoes is missing. Kids don't put on shoes to get a snack," Sam reflects. "Nate's parents told us they found the TV and lights on like he had been watching movies really late, but a flashlight is gone. And Mr. Jordan said Dylan was out catching fireflies when he was taken, but his parents thought he was in bed."

A waitress stops at their table to take their respective orders. After she leaves, Dean summarizes:

"All three kids should have been in bed but were probably outside when they disappeared."

"So we're looking at at a... huge bird that takes kids who stay up past curfew? Lures them outside and grabs them?"

"What kid hears or sees something outside at night and just walks out the door to investigate without telling anybody?" Dean sneers.

"Dean, how many stupid _adults_ have we met?" Sam waits until he sees Dean's _hmm, fair point_ face before continuing. "There has to be some kids dumb enough, it's a question of finding them. The thing probably relies on serendipity. They all disappeared at different times in the night. Dylan was already outside and he was taken the earliest."

Dean nods in agreement. He lets himself space out, staring at the table. Dean feels like shit. He gets his brother back and the first thing the kid does? Practically recite every single negative thing (or just every single thing) Dean's been thinking about for the past couple weeks.

Dean blames himself for everything all the time already, knowing Sam doesn't blame him. Sam is what he has instead of self-esteem. Sam gives him reality checks. ( _"Dean, you couldn't possibly have been responsible for that."_ ) When Sam blames him for crap, that makes it real. Doesn't matter if Sam only said it because he was pissed. Doesn't matter that in a million years, Sam would never ask Dean to kill himself or purposely imply that was an acceptable thing to do under any circumstances.

And then Sam just had to go ask Dean to promise to give up on him someday. Give up on Sam but somehow not give up on himself.

Same thing, as far as Dean is concerned.

"I've been thinking about what you said, Sam. You want me to choose some milestone or occasion for when we're going to let each other stay dead, right?"

"Got one already?" Sam tilts his head a little. Dean gives a small nod. He's surprised at himself that he found one so quickly, too, but it's perfect. What could possibly make Sam want to stay alive if not for Dean? He has to take a breath before saying it; it feels weird putting the words together. The first five are blasphemy for him anyway.

"I will let you go... after I get to hold your kid. Your actual, biological, non-monster kid."

Sam's expression of shock—and for some reason alarm, briefly—almost makes Dean laugh. It stops being funny as Sam remains speechless.

Dean wonders if their food will arrive before Sam says anything. Finally, Sam comes back to earth.

"...Dean, that's- that's cheating. Neither of us is gonna have kids. We're hunters."

Sam and Dean's minds often follow the same paths and at similar speeds; Dean knows it occurs to both of them that that didn't stop their mom's parents, hunters both, and Sam's only voicing the objection _Dean_ usually has.

"You're going to get out of the life someday and settle down, have a kid, be happy. You can rest in peace after I see you live in it."

"That's a pipe dream," Sam protests. "Something always sucks us back in. There's always some huge thing going down that we have to take care of. One thing always leads to another and we never walk away."

"Humor me, Sam. You told me to choose something. I chose something."

"I mean, that doesn't even make sense."

"How does that not make sense? You're not gonna have a kid until you're married, or good as, 'cause you're a prude."

"What?" Sam doesn't even look offended, only confused. "I have as many notches as you do."

"You're still a prude. Anyway, you'd only have a kid if you had a steady, normal job so you could support a family. Out of the life for nine months minimum."

Sam's back to looking as troubled as he did when he walked in, but he makes no more objections even though Dean knows what the next one would be. Instead he nods, defeated.

Not exactly the binding blood oath Dean was expecting.

* * *

 

The next step in hunting this thing is to answer the question of what likes to kidnap children who stay up late. It takes hours, but Dean hits paydirt first:

"This website says parents in Germany would tell stories about a bird that grabs kids who aren't in bed when they should be and rip off their limbs. ...That's a little harsh, just to make their kids go to bed. I didn't make shit like that up when you were being a pain."

"Right, a bogeyman in the closet wasn't 'making shit up' at all."

"But there is such thing as a bogey _bird_ ," Dean says. _C'mon, Sammy, smile._

"It's called a Nachtkrapp." Naturally, Sam finds a more detailed and useful source. Dean closes his laptop and lets Sam give him the rundown. "Means 'night raven' in German. It's like a pureblood because although it always transforms during the full moon, it's capable of transforming any night at will, as long as they feed regularly on the hearts of children... They can _only_ transform at night... They turn people by blood-to-blood contact but only through a wound inflicted by a Nachtkrapp's beak or claws... And they're vulnerable to silver."

"Awesome." Dean's already lounging on the couch while Sam's still at the table with his laptop. Maybe this hunt will be an easy one once they figure out who to gank.

"But it doesn't kill them."

"...Not awesome." _Damn it._ "How do we ice the sons of bitches?"

"Muriate of potash," Sam reads aloud.

Dean sits up and looks at Sam, overly intrigued.

" _What_ of pot ash? Are we lighting up?"

Sam finally cracks half a smile.

"Potash, one word, is a salt. Muriate of potash is what they used to call potassium chloride. It's used in fertilizers."

"Alright, do we spray it with Miracle-Gro?"

"You have to stab it in the heart with a silver blade coated with potash."

"Where the hell do we get potash?"

Sam takes about twenty seconds to find out.

"Uh... health food stores, looks like. They sell it in powder form as a substitute for table salt."

"Then pretty much all we have left to figure out is who the Nacht... the wereraven is. What exactly did Jordan tell you?"

Sam repeats what Mr. Jordan said.

"It's more like what he _didn't_ say," he says as a conclusion, "He was definitely holding something back. Also, his sister lives with him and when she walked into the room he got even more tense."

Going by personal experience, chances are they have a lead, Dean decides.

"Are you thinking she's the wereraven and he knows it?"

"That's... _really_ jumping to conclusions. But it's a lead."

Sam's phone rings. Dean watches his face carefully as he pulls it out and looks at the screen. Sam knows whoever's calling.

"I gotta take this." He rushes outside.

"Sam?" The door's already shut with Sam on the other side. After a few seconds Dean gets off the couch and goes to the window. His little brother's sitting on the trunk of the car, his back to the window. Sam's voice isn't loud enough to make out through a closed window. Dean considers opening it a crack but it looks like one of those windows that squeal if you try opening it half an inch.

Dean gets bored quickly. He wishes Sam would do something that would make it easier to guess what's up. It's probably related to whatever happened between driving away from Mr. Jordan's house and meeting up at the diner.

Finally Sam ends the call. He stares at his phone for a few seconds then puts it in his pocket. His head is tilted downward like he's studying the pavement, thinking. He doesn't move; Dean doesn't take his eyes off him.

_Yeah, this doesn't feel like I'm stalking my brother at all._

But Sam's face when he came into the diner, the expression he's had since then—that's the face he keeps up when he's dealing with crap that's tearing him apart. What flipped the switch?

Sam rests his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees. Crying? Dean tries to think of what information could possibly be _that_ upsetting to his brother.

 _...Goddammit, am I going to die again? I don't want to die_ now _. I've only had two days with him._

Dean heads outside, closing the door loudly to give his brother warning.

"Sammy? You sure you're alright?" he asks as Sam straightens up.

"I'm fine." He glares at Dean as he heads back into the room.

Sam couldn't look that pissed at Dean if he believed Dean is dying and doesn't know it. He'd be hugging him in the middle of the parking light in broad daylight. There's nothing comforting about that, though, because Dean doesn't know the last time one of them told the other _"I'm fine"_ and meant something other than _"I don't want to talk about what's eating me from the inside out."_


	4. Bloodline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, 9x10 has aired and now my story no longer theoretically fits with canon. I'm going to continue with my own imagining but use anything relevant from 9x10. I might make minor changes to chapter 2. Possibly the part where Dean says "Don't try to pin that on me" when in the episode he's like "That's on me." (I felt so awkward.)
> 
> I only did research on childhood development after writing a couple drafts. My only defense for how intelligent Olivia is for a two and a half year old is that she's Sam's kid and whatever makes her psychic may have pushed her mental development along.
> 
> Supernatural (c) the CW

 

**S**

Dean says he's going out, implying it's to relax and that he'll be back tomorrow morning.

It's suspiciously convenient for Sam, but his brother's given the impression he hadn't left the bunker in almost a week. Sam tried to give the impression of being really pissed and even Dean knows they can use twelve hours apart once in a while. Don't go looking at gift horses, Sam decides. There's too much else on his mind.

When Sam was running around with no soul, he pulled a lot of crap. Innocent people got hurt or killed. But everybody dies someday. For everyone, there comes a day when their ticker stops or gets ripped out of their chest.

Olivia is different. She never would have happened if Sam hadn't been soulless when he met Rebecca in the alley. The existence of Olivia's soul and body was far from set in stone; no angels or demons conspired to create her for purposes decided millennia ago. No, a soulless Sam took advantage of a drunk young woman and Olivia was born and raised fatherless.

The second the Impala leaves the parking lot, Sam starts going through his duffel. The phone call with Rebecca was short and to the point, and that grounded Sam. He can think logically about this now, wonder if he can trust them, wonder if Olivia trusts him more or less because of what she sees. What _does_ she see? Sam is eager to talk to her about her visions, but at the same time the idea of a small child having visions like he used to have, and of _his_ life, is sickening.

Rebecca's invited him to her home, or what she said was her home. That sure is a lot of trust she's putting in a man she's only met twice. It's unsettling, in fact. She could be a demon, a shifter, or anything, luring Sam into a trap. He can't necessarily trust anything they do or say, yet. Besides, considering what happened to Adam, he'd be an idiot not to test if they were really human.

However, taking that same incident into account, it isn't impossible they're something there's no easy test for. Sam reassures himself with the fact that the chance of the exact same monster getting Olivia and Rebecca as Adam and Kate has to be incredibly low. Plus, there's already one monster in this town and it's sensitive to silver. If they're not human, he'll know.

Sam decides to walk to Rebecca's. Her apartment isn't that close to the motel, but he has time to kill and he's too keyed up to do anything that requires more than minimal concentration. Walking takes up time and all he has to do is avoid bumping into anything.

There's a natural _Oh shit, I knocked someone up and I'm not prepared to deal with a kid_ element to his distress, but it's completely overshadowed by the painful facts. Olivia is not the product of a loving union and it's not that it was a casual hookup in a dirty back alley in the middle of the night. Sex with someone who's too drunk to consent is rape—one of the few lines Sam had assumed he's never crossed.

And equally troubling to Sam, his lack of soul at the time isn't related to her clairvoyance. It's just because Olivia is Sam's and Sam has demon blood in him. It was in him even after his body was raised from the Cage and it must still be in him.

During his rare daydreams of being out of the life and having kids, it never once occurred to him that there was anything to worry about passing on to kids. How did he never think of it? Maybe the concept of children is just too pure and innocent for Sam to sully with the idea of demon blood. Regardless, he would have dismissed the idea. It was fed to him when he was a baby—how could it make its way into his seed?

Then again, Sam reflects, if it was just dripped into his mouth, how is it in him decades later?

The sun is setting; everything is tinted orange. Rebecca's apartment, 37B, is on the same street as the Jordans' house, seven or eight long blocks down. In contrast to the neat, new, middle-class houses surrounding the Jordan home, the buildings in this immediate vicinity are small and aged.

Sam finally spies the correct building. He checks his watch before turning off the sidewalk and decides that four minutes early is acceptable.

The house is a medium sage, undoubtedly lead-based paint cracking and chipping like on most of the others. The lawn is mowed and neat, but it's a tired, dull shade of green. There's a porch and two front doors, the left-hand door marked A and the right-hand door marked B. A curtain blocks Sam's view through the window.

As Sam walks up the creaking steps, he reads a piece of paper taped next to Rebecca's door, under the taped-over button for the doorbell:

 

 

_Bell out of order  
_ _Please knock!_

Intentional reference, Sam decides. Cute. The message was made with care; the writing is nearly calligraphic and a pretty border was drawn around the edge of the paper. The contrast with the shabbiness around it is striking—an aesthetic oasis in the desert.

It makes him think back to when he met Rebecca the first time. That's what she was compared to their setting. That garbage-scented alleyway was just plain gross—the grunge and rust were why he bothered to ask _"Sure?"_ There would have been no objection to relocating to someplace where touching a wall wasn't a health hazard. He didn't care that much, though. The only thing he planned on touching was the hot damsel in distress.

When Rebecca and her daughter met Sam today, she wasn't the same. Rebecca's face looked weary in a way that no one's face should be at twelve pm on a Sunday. Nearly everything she wore looked like it should have been replaced long ago. Her jeans had actually been mended in more than one place; the sweatshirt she was wearing was frayed at the cuffs and had a broken zipper.

And she lives in this place. It's far from uninhabitable, but Sam and Dean have stayed in at least one abandoned house that looked nicer on the outside.

A kid, especially an unplanned kid, has to make a world of difference when it comes to finances. How old was Rebecca, anyway? Twenty-one at least if she was going home from a bar drunk. Sam hopes. She's still beautiful but she's aged; she looks like she's in her early or mid-thirties but she couldn't have been more than twenty-five three years ago.

As he knocks on the door, Sam makes a mental note to tell Dean when he gets back to kick him in the nuts.

After a few seconds, he hears footsteps and sees the curtain inside sway. He hears the door being unlocked and finally it opens slowly. Behind it, Rebecca.

Sam gives himself a moment to look her over. Her expression is so anxious Sam feels downright guilty about not trusting her. She's wearing the same clothes as before, except now her feet are bare. The prior short braid is gone and her hair is down, tucked behind her ear on one side.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi. ...Come in." Rebecca steps aside to let him through as if she is obeying an order she doesn't like.

"If you're not comfortable with me in your home," Sam begins before she shakes her head.

"If you were a regular dead-beat dad..." She gives up on whatever she was going to say and simply points out, "I invited you." She doesn't deny feeling discomfort.

"Dead-beat dad" makes Sam flinch, but the shoe fits. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before stepping inside. He can almost hear Dean yelling at him, saying he shouldn't go in until she's proven she's human, but if anyone can ignore a voice in his head, it's Sam Winchester.

Once inside, he scans the room for anything indicating that this is not the home of a single mother and her small daughter. He's looking for a trap, but he can't help taking it in as Rebecca and Olivia's home. He's more than curious to know how his daughter lives.

The interior is much like the exterior—old and worn, but generally clean and sturdy. There are small aesthetically pleasing touches, like a vase of flowers on the mildly cluttered kitchen table. From his distance, Sam can't tell if they're fresh or fake. The curtains don't look expensive in the least but the floral pattern is pretty.

He can just imagine his brother's face if Dean knew about Sam judging her interior decor.

Rebecca is standing with her arms crossed, like she's analyzing Sam, too. Sam notes as an aside that without shoes, she barely comes to his shoulder.

The living room is more Olivia's area than Rebecca's. Nearly a quarter of the floor is littered with giant non-choking-hazard legos. There are two picture books on the low coffee table—an ancient piece of furniture in front of a sofa and chair that probably didn't come in the same set but have matching covers over them. Across the room from Sam is a bookcase. The upper shelves have a variety of novels and other volumes and the lowest shelf has children's books.

Olivia emerges from god-knows-where and scurries over to Rebecca and Sam. To her parents.

"Hi there, Olivia." Sam can't stop himself; he just knows that this is his child. And she's irresistibly adorable.

"Hi!"

Sam squats to meet her at eye level, keeping her mother within his field of vision. Now he can look her over more closely. He recognizes the shape of Olivia's nose and mouth from what he sees in the mirror on a daily basis, her smile from pictures of himself, rare as they are. He studies her eyes. Apparently he and Rebecca donated whatever genes were necessary to recreate his brother's eye color. Sam wonders what Dean would think of that. Her coloring—pale, cool-toned skin, light brown hair—and the rest of her facial features match Rebecca's.

"It's good to meet you," Sam says, unsure what else to say.

"Mommy didn't think you were real before today, but I did." The little girl sounds like she's both apologizing and gloating. Sam has to fight a grin.

"I know how you feel. I used to have visions and my brother Dean didn't think they were real at first."

Sam happens to look up at Rebecca then. She mouths _She doesn't know_ to him before addressing Olivia.

"Olivia, we need to talk for a couple minutes. And then you can talk to Sam, too."

Olivia pouts a little but understands and returns to her blocks. Sam straightens up and Rebecca leads him halfway into the kitchen.

"Please don't tell Olivia that you're her father," she whispers. "Not yet. She's sensitive about not having a dad and unless you can promise you're going to be in her life from now on, which you can't, I don't want her to know."

"Alright." _But I want to be._

Rebecca hasn't uncrossed her arms yet.

"Sam, you're here mostly because I'm choosing to trust you even though you completely betrayed any trust I would have put in you when we... met. I have to if I want to get any answers and Olivia thinks you and Dean are trustworthy, even though what you do scares her."

It's Sam's cue to prove he's worthy of Olivia's faith and he's not sure he can. He decides, at any rate, he can't afford to tell lies to Rebecca about himself or what he does, wrong as it might feel telling the truth to a near-stranger. So far, he doesn't have to be dishonest.

"I know apologizing doesn't change anything, but I want you to know I- I'm really sorry for what I did. That was inexcusable of me. I hope it goes without saying I would never- I _will_ never do anything like that again."

Rebecca looks down at the worn-out linoleum floor, thinking. She touches her cross necklace, running her thumb over the smooth-looking metal. Finally she looks up at Sam again.

"I've spent more than three years resenting some nameless guy who saved me from a creepy thing, then took advantage of me being grateful and drunk. And then left me with no name and a daughter who last winter started having dreams about a guy named Sam whom she seems to think is a superhero. A few hours ago I find out that this 'Sam' is actually the same guy. I'm still trying to deal with that, trying to figure out how to reevaluate my opinion of you, if I should at all. What I do know is that I want what's best for Olivia and you know more than I do about this. You've had visions, you said. So... for now, I want to put what you did aside."

Sam nods. This is the best he can hope for. Maybe someday he'll explain to her about having no soul, someday when she knows there's no reason for him to lie to gain trust.

"Anything you want to say before we have an audience?" Rebecca asks

Sam briefly and apologetically explains about tests to make sure she and Olivia are human and Rebecca agrees to them, under the condition that she wield the silver knife to cut herself with. She doesn't like the idea of testing Olivia and Sam relents even though Dean will kill him if that decision doesn't. A determined mother is too intimidating.

* * *

 

As Rebecca hands the knife back to Sam, she asks something no one has bothered to ask in earnest before:

"Are you human?"

Sam almost drops the knife. He looks away and smiles to hide his discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm a human."

"But...?"

It's been so many years since this was an issue. Everybody had always had their mind made up beforehand.

"There have been a couple people who thought I wasn't, but they were wrong."

Rebecca studies him as if she suspects that he was one of them. Then she heads back to the living room and Sam follows. He sits in the armchair at her gesture. It creaks loudly. The faint scent of cigarette smoke registers and Sam decides it's probably from the previous owner of the chair.

Olivia crawls into Rebecca's lap when she sits down on the couch (also a noisy piece of furniture), but her mother makes Olivia sit next to her, little feet hanging over the edge.

"Livvy, Sam knows about having dreams and visions the way you do. I want you to tell him about what happens to you, okay?"

Olivia nods.

"What are the dreams and visions like, Olivia?"

"When I dream about you, no one sees me. It's like watching TV. It doesn't feel like other dreams."

Sam nods.

"She usually gets a headache the next morning, too," Rebecca puts in.

"When I have visions," Olivia says, enunciating 'have visions' as if she is unsure of the meaning behind the words, "my head hurts so much I cry and then I close my eyes and I see you."

Small children should not be experiencing pain and have to watch the life of a hunter. It's a fact in Sam's mind.

He asks Olivia to describe her first dreams and visions. Rebecca occasionally supplies dates or other details for when her daughter dreamt about Sam and Dean shooting monsters or torching bones.

It especially gets through to Sam when Olivia describes the first waking vision she had:

"You were with Dean and he was worried about you because you were sick. You said you remembered being little and him reading to you. You said when you were little you thought you weren't clean."

Sam barely recalls telling Dean about that, but he does remember being small.

"I feel like that," Olivia says, dropping the cheerful interest she's displayed so far in talking to Sam. Before this moment, her eyes lit up when he said he understands or if he offered an explanation for something, but now that she's volunteering empathy, her expression is sober.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Not clean. I'm not like everyone else."

Sam feels the instinct to tell Olivia that that's not true; she is perfect and good, as good as anyone else. Because that's what she means, that she is less-than. She doesn't feel bad about it yet, but she knows. He stops himself from denying it and thinks it over. Wouldn't that be hypocritical? Does hypocrisy matter when she's this young?

"...You are _different_ , Olivia. But that's not wrong. I was different too. ...I guess I'm still different."

Olivia studies him.

"Do you have a daddy? I don't have a daddy."

Rebecca tenses a little, unseen by Olivia.

"I did have a dad," Sam answers carefully, "but I didn't have a mom."

"Why didn't you have a mommy?"

The most precise answer to that question is uncomfortably relevant, Sam realizes.

"She died when I was a baby, much younger than you are."

"Mommy doesn't know what happened to my daddy. Do you know?"

Sam hates lying to her.

"No I don't."

Olivia is disappointed but doesn't pursue it.

Rebecca and Sam exchange relieved glances which drop as Olivia gasps in sudden pain. Sam jumps up, alarmed, before he realizes what must be happening. Olivia shuts her eyes tight and clutches at her head. Rebecca pulls the child into her lap and strokes her hair as she whimpers. She whispers into Olivia's ear, soothing words Sam can't make out. He knows Olivia can't hear her mother, but he would be trying to say comforting words in Rebecca's place all the same.

"She used to cry loudly when she got the headaches," Rebecca remarks to him. "She's gotten better at not crying loudly when it hurts."

The revelation that Olivia is already learning to hide pain feels like being stabbed. All warmth drains from Sam's body.

He sits on the couch instead of back in his chair, though keeping distance between himself and Rebecca.

"Is she seeing me now?" he asks after a few seconds.

"I imagine. I should have guessed this would happen. She seems to get the visions when you're highly emotional."

"...I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one to apologize to."

Sam watches as Rebecca rocks the little girl, trying to soothe her knowing it's in vain. He blinks away the tears pricking at his eyes.

"I know," he whispers.

He's never hated himself more. He's never wished so hard that things were different, that he were different. The feeling of being tainted had always been confined to himself before and he'd nearly forgotten about it in recent years. The idea that he's passed it on and Olivia is experiencing this when she's so young is stomach-turning.

 _This is on me._ I'm _wrong and she's paying._

"How old is she, exactly?" Sam asks, clearing his throat.

"Two years, eight months ...minus a few days. Her birthday is January 25th, 2011." Rebecca pauses before volunteering more information. "She was late preterm. The due date was mid-February."

"Was there a... reason she was preterm?"

"My mother blamed it on the stress of trying to keep up with college courses and a job."

"College?"

"I was majoring in English. Dropped out during junior year after Olivia was born."

Sam does the math and his heart sinks a little.

"Were you really 21 when we met?"

Rebecca doesn't bat an eye, knowing what he's referring to.

"No. I had a fake ID, was using it at bars for months. It was a few weeks shy of my twentieth birthday."

"...Jesus." Sam replaces his prior mental note with one to strongly consider getting himself castrated.

Aware that Olivia is likely observing them, Rebecca doesn't respond verbally to that.

"How did your visions stop?" she asks. "Assuming they did."

"Dean killed a certain demon."

"I don't suppose you can kill it again."

"No."

"Then is Olivia going to be like this forever?"

"No. I won't let that happen."

It's one of the few things Sam is certain about at the moment. He has to take responsibility for Olivia. He will find a way to make the visions stop. If he has to die so there's nothing for Olivia to see, that's what he'll do. She can't function normally in everyday life if she has a vision even once a week. Sam imagines her being in school, driving a car, just trying to cook a meal, never knowing if or when she's going to get a splitting headache and crumple into unconsciousness. Being careful, every moment, just in case. Being in pain every other morning for weeks-long stretches. It's wrong and he cannot let Olivia's life run that course if there's a way out.

Sam wishes he could hold his daughter and tell her everything will be okay. He doesn't want to ask Rebecca, knowing that she is likely to say no and that would make both of them uncomfortable.

He looks around the room to distract himself for a few seconds and notices that there are no pictures of family anywhere, even though Rebecca just mentioned her mother.

"What other family do you have?"

"None that I've talked to since I moved here." Rebecca's tone implies she wants it that way.

"Friends?"

"Not really. I don't have much time for friends 'cause I work three different part-time jobs. Lorelei—Robert's sister, did you meet her?—has been generous to me ever since I moved here. She watches Olivia two or three days a week, never asks anything in return. Apparently she's like that with everybody."

The little girl isn't the only isolated one, then. More guilt for Sam.

Olivia finally seems to be coming out of it. Sam sees her open her eyes. Rebecca wipes the tears off her cheeks and kisses her on the forehead.

"I saw _us_ ," Olivia says, awed.

"I guess that's because I'm here with you." Sam tries to smile at her and fails. Details of Rebecca's and Olivia's lives have been filled in and it hurts too much right now.

* * *

 

**D**

As expected, Sam leaves the motel not long after he sees Dean drive away.

Half of Dean does want to head out and enjoy the fact that Maryland has no blue laws, but it's not the stronger half of him. The other half of him has a bad feeling about whatever Sam's up to. Whatever spooked him earlier, the phone call, going out without mentioning plans to Dean—those are not good signs.

He watches Sam go up to the door of a green house. Sam knocks and a woman answers the door. He doesn't show her a badge but they aren't acting like they know each other or plan to get to know each other. Sam goes inside; the door closes behind him.

Dean decides against creeping up to the house and peeking through the windows. He has a little more trust in Sam than that.

Not much more, though. Dean drives back to the motel to wait.


	5. Honesty

**S**

Olivia's tears soon dry and Rebecca, noticing it's getting very late for a small child to be up, puts her to bed. Sam agrees to wait and talk to Rebecca more.

He waits on the couch and finally Rebecca returns, sans Olivia, and to Sam's surprise sits right where she was before with zero hesitation. They're one couch cushion away from each other and Rebecca seems to have relaxed slightly.

"Olivia likes you," she says after a few seconds.

"She's..." Sam shakes his head slightly, almost smiling but not sure if he should. "I don't know what to say."

"She's your daughter."

_She's the most adorable kid I've ever met. She's precious beyond belief. But I don't deserve to call her my daughter._

"So, did I answer any of your questions yet or just raise a hundred more?"

Rebecca pauses to think about it and gives the predictable answer:

"Both."

"You've been answering my questions all night. So shoot."

* * *

Sam didn't head to Rebecca's expecting to give a vague and heavily abridged version of his life story, but he does. It's a stupid thing to do, he knows. The phrase "demon blood" never passes his lips, but he doesn't tell her a single lie and she doesn't pry much. She's the type that doesn't express out loud just how freaked are they out upon learning about the supernatural, but occasionally her expression gives her away.

In return, Rebecca tells Sam more about Olivia's life, primarily the mundane facts to satisfy his parental curiosity. Rebecca takes good care of her daughter, Sam decides, and he's glad Olivia has her for a mother. As much as it hurts to know he's been oblivious to Olivia's existence all this time and as much as he wants to be involved in her life from now on, he can't help but think it might be for the best that he hasn't been so far. Who knows if he'd be any good as a parent?

He decides he should leave before he overstays his welcome. Before he does, Rebecca has a question:

"Sam, from what Olivia's told me, I get the impression you and Dean tend to get upset with each other because one of you is keeping something from the other. Did you tell Dean about Olivia?"

"...Not yet."  _She got that out of hearsay from a toddler? Holy crap._

"If it will help Olivia faster, tell him as soon as possible. Please."

Sam nods.

"Why are you in town, anyway?"

Dean might kill him for doing this, too.

"We're hunting the thing that's been taking kids."

"Do you think they're still alive?"

"Honestly, no."

"Oh god... their parents..." Rebecca's face falls in sympathy. Sam, for the first time, can begin to relate to a parent's concern for a child. "Is Olivia safe from it?"

"As long as she stays in bed at night, she should be." There's some nagging thought at the back of his mind, like there's something else he should tell Rebecca, but it doesn't break out of his subconscious even when he gives himself a couple seconds. He gives up and decides it's time to go anyway.

"I'll let myself out," he says. His mind has skipped ahead to them standing awkwardly at the door, uncertain how to say goodbye. Handshake? Nothing? Hug?

"I told Olivia you'd come back," Rebecca says as he stands up. She looks up at him. "I'm kind of hoping I wasn't lying."

"I'll be back," Sam promises.

Rebecca offers him her first smile that isn't directed towards Olivia. She doesn't exactly forgive him, Sam thinks, but she has chosen to be amicable.

It's a little worrying, if Sam is honest with himself. Does she reconcile with people who shouldn't get a second chance after an unforgivable act? Does  _he_  deserve a second chance, even?

* * *

**D**

Dean's sitting on his bed poring over a magazine when the door opens and Sam comes in. He doesn't look up immediately—he's trying to look nonchalant and he'd rather be looking at the magazine than Sam anyway.

"Hey, Sammy, where've you been?"

Sam shuts the door behind him and puts his jacket on a chair before replying. He moves and speaks cautiously like he's expecting Dean to pounce on him.

"Thought you were going to a bar."

"It was closed. Damn blue laws," Dean lies.

Sam seems to accept that answer. He moves between the beds and sits on the side of his bed, waiting for Dean to set aside the magazine. Dean does so and looks at him, waiting. He's not sure what he expects to hear, but it's something serious.

"...Sam?"

Sam opens his mouth to say something, then seems to lose whatever words he had and closes it again. He thinks for a few seconds and exhales before finally explaining.

"Right after I left Mr. Jordan's house, I met a little girl and her mother. Olivia, the girl, has dreams and visions of us on a regular basis. Specifically me."

"...That's not creepy." Dean sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed to face Sam completely. "Why didn't you tell me right away?"

"I wanted to get information first."

"I should've gone with you."

"...Her mom wanted me to come alone."

"And you just went along with it? Without warning me?! It could have been a trap!"  _What the hell!_

"Well, it wasn't."

"Are you sure they're human, that they're not possessed? Is- is Olivia human?"

"I did all the tests."

"How the hell did they even find you?"

"Olivia had a vision of me talking to Mr. Jordan. She sees us almost in real time, as far as I can tell. Sometimes as long as a day ahead or even behind."

"What does she know? How long has she been watching us?"

"Since January. And she knows... a lot. She knows what we do, she knows we're brothers, she watched the Trials as they happened but she didn't understand it very well... she knows what you did, letting Gadreel possess me, but she didn't have visions when he was in control. Last week was the first quiet week in a long time for them, but normally she has a dream almost every night and a vision every other day or so."

"Why is a little girl we've never met before having visions of you? She can't be the next Prophet. What's the connection?"

"Olivia's first dream of us was when Abaddon came after Henry through that portal. I think Abaddon triggered her. The visions are similar to mine when the yellow-eyed demon was around and those stopped after you killed him. Abaddon is the most powerful demon to walk the Earth in a few years. She shows up, some switch in Olivia's brain gets flipped, she starts dreaming. I figure they're of  _me_  'cause... y'know."

Dean frowns.

"Are you saying you think someone dripped demon blood into her mouth when she was a baby? Pretty quick on the draw there."

"Uh... not exactly. I figured it makes sense for it to be related to demons. But I don't think anybody gave Olivia demon blood. I asked her mom. Nothing on her six-month birthday. Nothing weird at all until the dreams and visions started. Rebecca never made any deals to let someone into her home. There's no reason to start a new generation of psychic kids anyway. We stopped the Apocalypse before Olivia was even conceived."

"Sam, it doesn't have to be for the Apocalypse. What if Rebecca was possessed and doesn't remember? What if Rebecca's lying? What if she knew what demon blood does and she gave it to her daughter, somehow thinking it'd be a good thing?"

"No, Dean. It would have to be the blood of a powerful demon. There weren't any around." Sam goes quiet but he isn't waiting for a response or even paying attention to his brother, just brooding over something. "I think... maybe it's something she was born with."

Dean decides against using the first words that spring to mind— _maybe it's not Maybelline._

"Why? Is there something weird about her mom?"

"No, Rebecca's fine, and she said the pregnancy was normal other than Olivia being born a little early."

"What about her dad?" Dean asks. Sam hesitates and that raises the alarm in Dean's head.  _Do we know him? Is he somebody we got killed?_

"Rebecca couldn't tell me much about him. Didn't even know his name. One night, she was drunk and a complete stranger took advantage of it."

"Dick move," Dean comments.

"Dean, that's way beyond a dick move!" Sam is suddenly so vehement, someone would think a stranger had done it to  _his_  mom.

"...What if the guy was possessed?"

Sam seems to be too busy pondering something to respond right away and when he finally speaks, it sounds automated like he's only stalling for time.

"We've already met a half-demon, half-human kid. Olivia is nothing like Jesse."

"Exactly, Sam, that was different. Jesse was like a demon Jesus. His mom was a virgin, remember? We're talking about Rosemary's baby here. Olivia can't be psychic just randomly. It's no coincidence she's connected to you. Random doesn't happen around us. If nothing happened to her or Rebecca, this is because of Olivia's dad, and that sounds exactly like something a demon would do. You think this is related to demons, right? Maybe her dad was a demon."

Sam looks like he's about to argue further. Instead he goes silent and thoughtful yet again. Dean finally loses patience with his brother's preoccupation.

"Sam,  _what_?"

Sam looks around the room, searching, before noticing a pad of paper and a pen on the table next to the bed. He holds them as if he's going to write or draw, but he does neither.

"Olivia could be seeing us at any given moment. Her visions are usually triggered by intense emotions, but there aren't any consistent rules to visions or dreams other than pain..." Sam trails off and when he continues his voice is weak: "Dean, she's not even three years old and she's learning to hide how much pain she's in. A little kid shouldn't be dealing with that."

"Sam."

Sam starts to write something. His hand covers the paper before Dean can read the pointed cursive upside-down. Dean wonders why cursive.

"Olivia doesn't know who her dad is," he says to Dean before he resumes, angling the notepad so Dean can't see.

"Yeah, I got that."

Sam messes up a word. He scribbles it out and finishes the message. He stares at what he's written and takes a deep breath before he hands the pad of paper to Dean, face-down.

"It's a secret."

Dean raises one eyebrow at his brother.

"What, you have a crush on somebody and you don't want Olivia knowing?" he jokes as he turns it over.

Dean reads it and drops his cheerful expression.

_What._

He studies Sam—tense, waiting for a reaction. What does he expect Dean to do? Shout? Throttle him? Walk out the door?

He stares at the five words in his little brother's barely-legible handwriting, blinking a few times in case he's misreading it.

He looks up again and eyes Sam, who folds his hands and looks everywhere but at Dean.

He regards the paper again and finally breaks into a nervous grin.

"You're- you're kidding, right?" For the third time, Dean returns his attention to the man sitting across from him. Awaiting judgment.

"I wish I was."

There are so many new questions and thoughts they're melting together into nonsense and Dean's mind is going blank.

"How much of what you just told me was bull?" Dean finally asks.

"Nothing worth mentioning."

"You mean other than the part when you didn't freakin' tell me this right off the bat?!" Dean slams the notepad back on the table hard enough to make the lampshade quiver, damning words for anyone to see:

_Dean, I am Olivia's dad._

* * *

**R**

After the door latches shut behind Sam, Rebecca gets up and locks it, then retreats back to the couch. She draws her feet up, hugging her knees.

_Did today really happen?_

She needs to be up at five tomorrow. Except instead of going to bed, she's going to have a mug of tea and think all this over. She can't just go to sleep after everything that's happened in less than 12 hours. She went from knowing less about her child's father than if she'd gone to a sperm bank to finding out that her daughter has been seeing her father for months and he's not a bad guy. Possibly.

 _Why_  does she trust him? She spent the first half of his visit defensive and anxious, but by the time she was done putting Olivia to bed, she realized she wasn't that afraid of him.

Sam is a completely different person from the nameless jerk who nailed her to the wall three years ago. Olivia trusts him. What opinion can Rebecca form with a few drunk hours in the middle of the night, her young daughter's visions of a man who fights monsters, and an evening of discussion and storytelling?

Setting aside his behavior during their first encounter, does she believe all this about demons, monsters, and psychic powers? It fits in with what Olivia has been seeing and more importantly how Rebecca met Sam—him rescuing her from a  _thing_. Was that a demon? Apparently there are a lot of things that go bump in the night.

Monsters in general don't concern her as much as they probably should, Rebecca thinks. There's not one lurking around every corner and those brothers can't be the only monster hunters out there. Her immediate concerns are more mundane.

Earlier today, Rebecca argued with herself whether it was safe enough invite Sam to her apartment. After she decided she trusted him enough, she had to battle her own pride. If Sam cares about his daughter, and Rebecca sensed that he would when they met on the sidewalk, he wouldn't want her living in a home like Rebecca's—the home of someone who through lack of resources and lack of experience can't feed and clothe two people properly. When Sam came in and looked around, she hid her humiliation. But it was right for him to know.

She hates herself for thinking of it already, for being so materialistic, but she's learned in the past couple years that she can't afford to overlook any possible non-illegal source of income: child support. Rebecca is battling pride again to admit that if she managed to get over her initial distrust in Sam, she needs to try. He is at least slightly better off than she is, probably significantly better off.

 _I meet Olivia's father to try to make some sense of what's happening to her and then I think about fucking_ money _. That's what I've been reduced to._

Rebecca starts thinking of all the criticism her parents would have, the names her sisters would call her, and decides it's time to sleep.

* * *

Rebecca wakes up to an alarm. At first she assumes it's her long-used cellphone going senile. She picks it up off her bedside table—actually a folding TV tray—only to see that it's not long after midnight and then realize the sound she's hearing is the smoke detector.  _A fire? God, please let this be a false alarm. Don't be a fire, don't be a fire... Oh my God, Olivia!_


	6. Cursive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural (c) the CW

 

**S**

"I wanted you to know about her first," Sam says. He takes the notepad and adds to his short epistle:

_You needed to know why we can't talk about this out loud._

Dean reads it, then hands it back and closes his eyes like he wishes he were somewhere else. When he opens them a few seconds later he squints at Sam.

"You're saying  _all_  of that was true. You-"

"Dean," Sam cuts off his brother before he can say more. He holds up the notepad and then proffers it. "Watch your mouth."

A loud, exasperated sigh, a page turned, and then some scribbling.

_You screwed a drunk chick? Since when do you pull shady shit?_

"It was when I didn't have a soul."

"Oh, that is  _real_  classy, Sam-"

"Shh!"

"What, you can talk but I have to write?"

"I'll write some answers."

Dean shoves the notepad back into Sam's hands.

_Any other questionable hook-ups you want to mention? Playtime with jail bait? Any other times you "forgot" to wrap it?_

"No!" Sam bristles and snatches the pen to write a response in a furious hybrid of cursive and printing.

_I was soulless, not stupid! Or a perv! Saved Rebecca from a shifter, she was grateful, ~~I was~~ my body was fresh out of the cage, we were alone, I didn't care that she was drunk.  
I feel terrible._

_~~How drunk was~~  
Where did it happen?_

"Bethesda. Give me a minute." Sam starts writing a long message.

_We have to set that aside right now. What's important is that Olivia has visions of us. Everyone involved wants them to stop._  
 _-They're only getting more frequent._  
 _-They scare Olivia. The few normal dreams she has are usually nightmares about things we hunt._  
 _-When she gets a vision it scares other people._  
 _-Especially other little kids._  
 _- They HURT her.  
_ _I want Olivia to grow up without being worried that at some random moment she'll pass out. I don't want her having headaches most mornings. I don't want her to have to watch what we do._

Around halfway through, Dean loses patience and gets up and sits next to Sam. Even looking figuratively over Sam's shoulder, he still takes some time to read the final draft. By then, Sam has one more thing to add:

_For once there's somebody alive because of me, instead of dead because of me, and she's cursed with this._

"What about everybody you save?"

_They're not dead because of us. Olivia is alive because of me. There's a difference._

"So how do you plan to stop the visions?" Dean asks.

It's a relief to have a safer topic of conversation.

"Kill Abaddon. Or exorcise her to buy Olivia some peace and quiet until we figure out something more permanent. Cutting up Abaddon and burying her in cement didn't stop the visions."

"We need something more short-term."

"Maybe the Men of Letters will have something," Sam suggests. Dean nods. "There might be a charm or amulet that could block the visions."

They sit in silence—relatively awkward silence, sitting so close to each other. Sam doesn't know what his brother is thinking about, but right now what's on his mind is _their_  father. He has to ask himself who that is in the first place. John Winchester might have kept Sam and Dean clothed and sheltered (most of the time), he might have been the person they called "Dad," but Bobby was more of a father to them than John ever was. If Sam is going to be a dad to Olivia, he's going to end up asking himself what Bobby would do a hell of a lot more often than what John would do.

"Sam, do you- Gimme that."

_Do you really think the demon blood from when you were a baby is causing this now?_

_What else could it be?_

_When was she 6 months old?_

_7/25/11_

_Raphael was still around._ _He_ _wanted to restart the Apocalypse. Even if R supported Michael, Lucifer would still need a vessel. The angels gave up on me and got Adam. Why not Olivia for Lucifer? Like when Cas was going to be a 9 year old girl._

"No."

Dean keeps writing.

_Even if no powerful demons were around, the angels might try it with regular demon blood. That could be why it's screwed up and the visions and dreams she has make no sense.  
_ _It's like PBR vs Johnnie Walker._

_There was demon blood. It was 30 years ago. It's still in me.  
_ _If Raphael found her, either Cas or Crowley should have found out. Don't you think Cas would have told us if he knew I had a daughter? If Crowley knew, he would have held her over our heads for leverage by now. Nobody powerful knows about Olivia. It's just what's already in her, from me. Remember Prometheus? He was cursed and his son inherited it._

_Fine maybe it is just you being her dad.  
Wasn't his kid named Oliver?_

"Yeah. Coincidence."

_Did you ask Rebecca why_

"Stop it, Dean," Sam says before his brother can finish.

"Just wondering," Dean mutters. A moment later, he starts to write something else. Sam is surprised when he's done after just one deliberate sentence.

_Didn't think that psychic stuff could be passed on._

_Me neither. But it's not the psychic stuff. It's the demon blood and it's making her psychic._

"To-may-to, to-mah-to."

_No, I wish it was just visions but it's not. She feels unclean, like she knows deep down there's something in her that's not right. Pretty sure she's psychic the same way I am because she's related to me. She's a Winchester._

Dean studies Sam's last message as if it contains the answer to life, maybe the whole universe. He sighs before taking the pen and pad from Sam.

_She's not a Winchester._

* * *

**R**

Fire.

Rebecca gets out of bed and heads for Olivia's crib in the opposite corner of the room. Her thoughts are racing. How should she leave the house? Is there anything she should grab on her way out? What are the chances of this being a false alarm? Nothing looks, smells, or sounds different from usual, other than the screeching detector.

"Mommy?"

Rebecca scoops up a frightened Olivia, blankets and all. Climbing through the window should be perfectly safe; this house just has the ground floor and last she knew nothing was under her bedroom window outside. It might be melodramatic, but it's safer than opening the door, not knowing where the fire is.

"Olivia, that's the smoke detector going off." She has to rehearse her words in her head and hope her voice stays even. "We have to go outside right away." Rebecca decides to grab her phone since it's right there. "We're going to go through the window, okay?"

Olivia starts to cry. Rebecca kisses her on the forehead before she opens the window, pushes out the screen, and exits her home for perhaps the last time.

She heads for the front of the house after recovering from a jarring landing on her feet. There's a hint of smoke in the air; slipping out through the window might have been justified after all. After she rounds the corner, she sees Sid, her landlord, talking on the phone. He hangs up before she's close enough to hear any distinct words.

"Oh good, you got out," he says. "911 is sending firetrucks."

 _Oh, and you didn't think to make sure we were okay before getting off the phone?_  Rebecca has been ambivalent towards her landlord since the day she met him. Tonight isn't helping him get on her good side.

"What happened?" Rebecca looks him over as she joins him on the sidewalk. He has a spattering of what look like small burns on his forearms. There are tiny holes of varying sizes burnt in the front of his jeans and discolored wife-beater. Looking back at the house, she sees flames inside 37A through the window. "Are you okay?"

"Grease fire. Tried throwing water on it but it didn't work. Drops of flaming oil flying everywhere."

"You might want to try baking soda next time."

"I'll remember," Sid grumbles, folding his arms and moving a step away.

Olivia is still crying in her mother's arms.

"Everything will be okay, Olivia. Sid had a fire but we're all safe."

"Why was there a fire?"

"It was an accident, Livvy. Sometimes accidents happen. You're safe right now."

Something highly flammable in Sid's apartment catches fire. Both Sid and Rebecca hear a shattering sound and flinch. At the same moment, a wailing fire truck becomes audible. It hushes Olivia. Rebecca realizes that she probably won't be able to sleep in her apartment tonight.

Miscellaneous emergency vehicles arrive and soon Rebecca is ushered out of the way of the firefighters, a thick blanket around her shoulders. She convinces the EMTs that she's fine; they convince her that Olivia is fine.

"Do you have somewhere to go?" one asks.

Rebecca calls the first person who comes to mind and the answer ends up being yes.

"All right, Olivia, Robert is going to come get us in a few minutes. We can get away from the noise and lights."

"Where's Sam?"

Rebecca blinks. Since waking up, she hadn't remembered what happened just a few hours ago.

"Sam went home, Livvy."  _Wherever the hell that is._

Without thinking about it, Rebecca finds the number in her contact list. She stares at it. If Sam cares about Olivia, wouldn't he want to know now? Should she wait until morning? What if she forgets?

She takes a deep breath, and dials.

* * *

**S**

"...You know what I meant, Dean."

" _We_  know what happens to every Winchester we've known. That includes Adam."

"I won't let that happen."

Dean has to slide a few inches away on the bed so he can face Sam comfortably.

"Oh? How're you gonna do that, huh? Move in with them? Watch them 24/7?"

"Dean, write-"

"Screw writing shit down!"

Sam sighs and shakes his head.

"What are you trying to say?"

"New rule, Sam: when we care about somebody who isn't in the life, we don't stick around to screw up their lives or get them killed. Unless you're ready to drop everything and move in, you get the hell out of Dodge. No addresses, no phone numbers, no pictures. We stop Olivia's visions however we have to, we don't come back."

There's no way Dean's reaction isn't related to Lisa and Ben. Sam has been pushing away thoughts of them all day. He's not supposed to talk about them. And even if Dean hadn't threatened to break his nose, Sam wouldn't bring them up if he could help it.

Luckily, what's occurred to Sam can be expressed without naming names. It is simple irony at its finest.

"I already did that once, Dean. I walked away with no phone numbers, no address."

"When?"

"Couple weeks, maybe just days before I met Olivia's mom."

"You mean-"

"When I didn't have a  _soul_."

If Dean does get the implication, he's hiding it well.

"The person I walked away from was pretty pissed when I came back." Sam lets that sink in before adding sarcastically, "Oh, and I have a fucking soul now, in case you forgot. I can't make myself ignore them."  _My family._  "I just can't."

Just then, a phone in someone's jacket starts ringing. Dean gets up and ends up finding it in Sam's. He pulls it out to give to his brother but first glances at the screen. He freezes in place.

"It says Rebecca."

"I put her in my contacts. So?" Sam reaches with one arm across the bed; Dean only needs to take a couple steps to be able to hand it to him.

Dean doesn't give Sam his phone; he doesn't ignore the call; he doesn't answer it; he doesn't silence it.

"You don't have to pick up, Sam. She can leave a message."

Before starting an argument with Dean, Sam considers why Rebecca might call him in the middle of the night.

The most horrific one presents itself first.

"Shit, Dean, answer that!"

* * *

**R**

Rebecca loses her nerve and ends the call before Sam answers.

The phone promptly alerts her of a low battery—she must have forgotten to plug it into the charger—and decides she might as well turn it off. Just another stupid inconvenience she's used to.

A police officer distracts her by taking a statement. It's frustrating; there's no need for it. The landlord accidentally started a fire and that's that. Inside, she just feels like crying from exhaustion, like Olivia is.

The flames are long gone; she's too tired to remember when exactly that happened. 37B is ostensibly untouched. It's probably supposed to be inspected before she goes back in. 37A didn't fare so well. What that means for Rebecca is something to think about after getting some sleep. How much did she get before? Less than an hour, probably.

Robert appears and gently escorts Rebecca to the car. He says Lorelei is already making up beds for both young mother and daughter.

* * *

**D**

Dean hears the sudden panic in Sam's voice, sees it in his face as he's practically lunging towards him for the phone. Even he's alarmed by it. Before Dean can decide whether to obey, it stops ringing and gives a missed call alert.

"What're you freaking out about?"

"The wereraven, Dean!"

"If it was the wereraven, Rebecca'll call again. ...It's not even the full moon."

"It doesn't need to be the full moon."

"I know. If she really needs you, she'll call again," Dean repeats.

Sam is unconvinced; Dean doesn't care. He doesn't even care if nothing he's saying or doing makes a lick of sense. This whole thing is too much and he needs to break something. As much as he loves Sam, right now his little brother's face is too close for its own safety.

"You know what, Sam? You're wrong." He surrenders the phone. "You  _can_  ignore them."

Dean finds his keys and leaves the motel room before he has to hear his brother call Rebecca back and dig them deeper into this hole, too deep to escape. He slams the door shut behind him.

_Do I have to spell it out for him? Sam's not that stupid._

He doesn't know where he plans on driving.

_I told Sammy 'don't talk about Lisa and Ben.' I didn't tell him to forget what happened._

Anywhere he can drive at 90 miles per hour until he's forgotten why he left the motel.

_Why does he think this can possibly end well? Why is he risking their lives? Why isn't he seeing it?_

Maybe he can hit 120, zone out as he speeds down the road.

_If I don't get through to Sam, they're going to get killed._

* * *

**R**

Lorelei greets the refugees with a hug, ushering them into her home. She helps Rebecca get Olivia to sleep in a makeshift bed and then insists Rebecca sit down and have a cup of tea.

"You're tense, and you're right to be, but some tea will calm you down a bit." She walks Rebecca to the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry I'm intruding, especially in the middle of the night." Rebecca looks at the table. Lorelei has her gleaming antique tea set out. "Oh, you didn't need to do all this."

"No need to apologize. The fire wasn't your fault." Lorelei pours some tea and slides the saucer closer to the young woman.

"A whole silver tea set, though."

"It was made to be used, honey. You'd never been around long enough to notice, but I used it almost every day until a few weeks ago. Rob got fed up with it."

Rebecca nods once to acknowledge and sips her tea. "Did he go back to bed already?"

"I checked, his door is locked."

_In the five seconds you've let me out of your sight since I got here?_

"What'd you mean, fed up?"

"Out of the blue, he was practically shouting at me. He said if I care so much about antiques, why am I using them for tea every morning? I told him that just because something's old doesn't mean it should be kept behind glass. Besides, china can break. Silver is beautiful and won't shatter if you drop it in the sink." Lorelei pauses her rant when she notices the small cut on Rebecca's forearm. "What's that from? Getting out of your house?"

"Guess so." Rebecca chooses to let the older woman provide her own explanation. It's not time to talk about Sam, let alone repeat anything from his abbreviated "Supernatural Monsters 101" lecture. Lorelei probably isn't ready to hear about the existence of supernatural creatures, and how certain types can't touch certain substances without getting hurt. If it weren't for that cut, Rebecca might think she dreamt it herself.


	7. Telephone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the first draft of what I like to call "the square peg monologue" was written ~two days after I came up with the idea for this story.
> 
> I had intended to write a chapter that would make people smile, because the story is only going downhill from here, but it didn't happen. Hence my being dissatisfied with this entire chapter, aside from the square peg monologue.
> 
> Some dialogue in this chapter is from or heavily inspired by dialogue from 9x12 and 9x13.
> 
> Supernatural (c) the CW

**S**

Sam folds his arms and paces up and down the room. He's unaware of the passage of time as his thoughts run in paranoid circles

 _Dean's right. She'll call again if she needs me. Unless she can't for some reason. ...But obviously she was able to a few minutes ago. She_ will _call if she needs me._

Sam is dimly aware that he should go to sleep. He can't tell if he's tired. Today was too crazy— _right now_  is too crazy. Dean's driven off in a huff and what if Olivia needs him?

A few minutes and countless mental repetitions of the mantra  _Rebecca will call if they need me_ , Sam's phone does finally ring. It's not who he wants it to be but he answers just as quickly.

"Dean?"

_"Sam."_

"You okay?"

 _"Yeah..."_  Dean trails off. Sam can tell over the phone that he's driving.  _"Sam, you get why you have to leave them alone, right?"_

"I get why you think that."

_"Why don't you?"_

"Just knowing us isn't an automatic death sentence."

_"This is a little more than 'just knowing,' Sam."_

Sam sits on his bed, rubbing his eyes.

"Listen, Dad had a relationship with Adam for years-"

_"Adam and his mom got killed."_

"Because they didn't know what was out there, how to protect themselves. Olivia and Rebecca do know what's out there."

_"Well they shouldn't. They're better off not knowing. If we stop the visions, Olivia won't remember any of this soon enough. They don't have to be dragged into our lives."_

"Olivia needs to know me."

_"The hell she does. If she knows you, there's no way you'll be able to keep her out of the life."_

Sam doesn't respond. Dean is missing a piece of the puzzle and without it he's going to keep arguing without getting anywhere. He's silent for a little too long.

_"Sam, this is simple-"_

"Dean, I get it! Okay? I get your angle. Your idea of how to raise a kid is 'not as a hunter.' Not the way we were raised. You don't care what kind of parenting goes on as long as it involves a fixed address and an ignorance of firearms."

_"What's so wrong about that?"_

"That's you. I'm not you." Sam gestures with his free hand even though his brother can't see. "Sure, I don't want any kid growing up in motel rooms, trapped in the life, but I'm not putting up stop signs anywhere. What I care about is Olivia not growing up feeling like a freak. I don't want her, or any kid, to have a shadow of a doubt that there's at least one place on Earth where she- she  _makes sense_. I need to know that she has just one place where whatever she is is normal. She's understood and accepted, she doesn't feel weird or unusual next to everyone else, nothing sets her apart unless she wants it that way."

_"How-"_

"I've felt like the square peg almost my entire life, no matter where I went or who I was with. When I was a kid, all I wanted was one retreat where I didn't feel like the odd one out. Over and over, I was the only one who hadn't been there on the first day of school, or the only one who'd rather be doing homework than target practice, the only one who didn't have anyone to give those damn tissue paper flowers in a can they have kids make for Mother's Day, or the only one who didn't remember Mom. And I was always, always the only one who felt something off inside me, deeper than I could describe.

"No matter how 'normal' Olivia's life is after we stop these visions, she's going to feel that same... impurity in her blood. I'm the only person she's ever going to meet who has ever felt exactly what she feels.  _That's_  why I can't walk out on them, Dean. I can't take from her the one thing that I wanted most, my whole childhood." Sam finds himself blinking back tears and feels a little stupid for getting so worked up.

 _"Being alive is more important than not feeling alone,"_  Dean says after a long pause.

Sam's bitter, snarky first thought is,  _I'm sure Kevin's really feeling that right now._

"Dean, it's none of your business."

_"You're my brother. That makes it my business."_

"Being brothers doesn't mean shit."

* * *

**D**

Dean doesn't know how to respond to that; it's as if Sam just announced bacon is gross. He decides to pull over, give himself a few seconds to think of how to respond to that completely ludicrous statement.

"What?" is all Dean can come up with to say by the time he turns the ignition off.

_"Being brothers, being family, is supposed to mean trust. I can't trust you the way I should be able to. So no, it's not your business."_

Hearing his brother saying all this out loud makes Dean feel like he's being punched in the gut. He wishes he hadn't called. The conversation wasn't supposed to go like this.

"What do you mean, you can't trust me?"

 _"I was ready to die, and you tricked me into being possessed by an angel because you didn't want to be alone. I can't trust you to do right by_ me _, how can I trust you to do right by my..."_  Sam exhales.  _"Don't try to tell me what's best for Olivia."_

"Are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same if it was me lying in the hospital bed?" Sure, Dean already tried the 'what would you have done' route, but Sam's response when he woke up was an angry one that he didn't mean.

 _"No, Dean, I wouldn't have."_  Sam's voice is so soft Dean can almost convince himself that he's mishearing his brother. Those are the wrong words.  _"Same circumstances, I wouldn't have."_

Every ounce of strength, every trace of emotional energy, every breath is drawn out of Dean's body. Sam just told him... what the hell did Sam just tell him? There's nothing Dean can say. There's no way to laugh it off or turn it into a joke to make it not hurt.

He ends the call, aware but ignoring the fact that he's the second person to hang up on Sam in less than half an hour. Dean's world just got pulled out from under him; he can't be bothered to be courteous. His very  _soul_  hurts as he replays the words in his head. It hurts like holding an ice cube, except he's trapped inside it. He even starts to go numb after a while.

Sam didn't mean that the way it sounded, Dean tells himself. He meant something else. If Dean hadn't hung up, Sam would have amended it to something that didn't sound like... like what it sounded like.

Suddenly, Dean is terrified. What if Sam is going to quit hunting? If he doesn't think of Dean as his brother anymore, is he going to move on to a new family, to Olivia and Rebecca? Sam deserves to be out, but this is too sudden. This can't be how it happens. The wereraven gets wasted and then what, Dean drives back home alone and Sam stays?

But that's how it has to be. Sam will never quit hunting if he's on good terms with Dean. If Dean wants to see Sam living a normal life, he's only going to see it from afar. If Sam settles down, Dean has to leave him alone the way he's been telling Sam to leave Rebecca and Olivia alone.

_Fuck my life._

* * *

**S**

The only thing Sam feels truly guilty about is not saying it to Dean's face earlier, before they took a case and drove off like things were okay. Things are far from okay and they're not "not okay" in a way that will disappear with time.

Still sitting on the bed, Sam carefully tosses his phone back on the table. He lies back and stares at the ceiling. He met Olivia and Rebecca something like thirteen hours ago though it's hard to believe it wasn't thirteen weeks ago. He closes his eyes for a second.

The next instant, another phone is ringing.  _Again?_  Sam blinks a few times as he stands up. Maybe he fell asleep.  _How many fucking phone calls..._  He identifies which phone is ringing and picks up.

"Agent Starkey."

 _"Sam?!"_  It's Rebecca's voice, frantic.

"Rebecca? How...?"

* * *

**D**

When Dean gets a text from Sam ( _GET BACK HERE NOW!_ ), he floors it back to the motel, no questions asked.

His brother is waiting for him outside the room. Dean doesn't bother parking; he just brakes long enough for Sam to get in.

"Where-"

"Silver knives in the trunk, right?"

"Yeah."

"Jordans' house."

There's silence for about ten seconds as Dean speeds out of the parking lot and down the road. Sam doesn't need to tell him this is serious.

"What's going on, Sam?" The streetlights don't help light the interior of the car well; Dean can only see shadows in Sam's face.

"It took Olivia."

Dean's heart drops and he grips the steering wheel tighter.

"The wereraven?"

Sam verifies it with silence. The interior of the car is brimming with fear and rage, so much it's making Dean downright sick. He purposely ignores a stop sign.

"What else do we know?" he asks, mouth gone dry.

"Rebecca and Lorelei will tell us when we get there."

"We don't have what we need to kill it," Dean dares to point out.

"We have what we need to hurt it."

Dean has a feeling that this is somehow his fault.

* * *

**O**

It's cold and dark. Tears flow from Olivia's eyes only to be dried by strong wind. She has a piercing headache.

What's holding her? Giant black bird feet. They're warm and cushy except for the sharp claws that are digging into her flesh. Those hurt.

Olivia cries as she struggles, but the feet only squeeze tighter and a shriek from the bird above her frightens her into staying still. She begins to sob more. She doesn't know where she is. She doesn't remember anything between Mommy putting her to bed, having a dream about Sam, and waking up here. She can't move her head much; she can't see anything but black feathers above her.

Sam knows that she's been taken, though. He and Dean are going to try to save her. It makes Olivia feel a little better inside, but it can't stop the terrified tears.


	8. Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers: Lincolnville, MD is a fictional location. And the Gilmore Girls reference is an accident.
> 
> This should have been up at least two or three days earlier and I'm sorry for that. Successfully posting the millionth work on AO3 and the subsequent hubris threw me off a bit. http://archiveofourown.org/works/1186296
> 
> Supernatural (c) the CW

 

**R**

Rebecca paces, biting her nails. She can't let herself fall apart. She's not the one who's been kidnapped by a giant bird that Sam implied kills its victims.

She hears a car pull up to the house and park. She throws the front door open and a second later, Sam and another man, not quite as tall, are coming in.

"What happened?" they demand in unison. The other one must be Dean, she decides in the back of her mind.

"My brother is- is a monster!" Lorelei says before Rebecca can respond to the question. She's pale and nervous, sitting on the couch hugging herself. "He took Olivia! I thought- I believed Robert, I thought it was safe." She starts to cry.

Rebecca would offer the woman a hug, but not until her daughter is back. Sam turns to her, his expression demanding a more useful answer.

"I put Olivia to bed. She was asleep, Lorelei and I were having tea in the kitchen, we heard glass breaking-" Rebecca pauses. "I'll show you the room." She leads Sam and Dean to where Olivia had been sleeping.

"I thought Robert Jordan was the one who saw the wereraven," Dean remarks to Sam as they follow.

"Maybe he got attacked and didn't tell us. Or he was lying."

 _A wereraven?_  Rebecca wonders.

The window is shattered, most of the glass outside. The draft nudges the curtains back and forth. The otherwise smooth hardwood floor and the windowsill are scratched—claw marks—and the blankets are strewn on the floor.

"Lorelei and I heard the window break. When we got over here, the door was open, the window was smashed, the floor was scratched up, and Olivia was gone." Rebecca's voice cracks and she closes her eyes for a few seconds.  _My baby._  "I looked out the window and I saw a giant black bird flying away. Really giant, huge. And it had her in its claws."

Sam won't look Rebecca in the eye. Dean is looking her over, maybe summing her up. He probably knows.

" 'It' is my brother," Lorelei says from the doorway. She has a tissue in her hand and she dabs her cheek with it. "This is all my fault. I knew about him but I believed him when he said he could control it."

Sam turns to Lorelei. Rebecca can't see his face nor Lorelei's reaction to it, but she can imagine it from the dark, dangerous tone of his voice and the way his shoulders are rising and falling.

"You  _knew_  that your brother turns into a monster that kidnaps children and you let Olivia come into your house?"

"He said he could control it and I believed him!" Lorelei pleads. "He's my brother. I trusted him."

"So he wasn't the one who saw Dylan get taken," Dean says to her as he gently pulls Sam away from Lorelei, relieving a fraction of the tension in the room. Sam turns away and finally meets Rebecca's eyes. She's surprised to see more fear there than anger.

"No," Lorelei says, "He wasn't.  _I_  saw it happen. I didn't believe my eyes. I thought I was crazy. But the next morning it was on the news so I called the police. I asked Rob to drive me to the police station so I could give a statement and he got upset and told me the truth. He said  _he_  would tell the police. He didn't want me talking to them, giving them details that might lead to him. I was scared for my life! So I told him exactly what I saw and he repeated it to everyone who asked."

"Right now what's important is finding Olivia. Every second counts," Sam snaps. "Do you know where he might have gone?"

"It flew in that direction," Rebecca offers, pointing. "Southeast. And that was maybe twenty minutes ago."

"Lorelei?" Dean prods. "He's probably operating on instinct when he's in bird form but he's still your brother. Where would he go?"

The middle-aged woman thinks.

"I know birds, because Robert has so many, but I... It might depend on why he's taking children. Do you know why?"

Sam and Dean exchange a look and the shorter man shakes his head slightly.

Rebecca feels her legs weaken under her as she realizes what that means.

"He's probably taking her to a hideout of some kind?" Dean supplies.

"A nest," Lorelei says. "Maybe... Well, Lincolnville, where we grew up, is southeast of here. I could give you the address?"

Dean and Lorelei talk directly to each other and Sam moves closer to Rebecca. Even at arm's length, they haven't stood this close to each other since they met the first time.

"I'm going to get Olivia back. I'm going to save her," he tells her, voice quiet enough that Dean and Lorelei won't hear while they're distracted.

"You said those kids... you don't think think they're alive."

"Olivia is probably still alive right now."

"Do you mean that or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

"I mean it." Out of the corner of Rebecca's eye, Sam's hand twitches like he wants to put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but isn't sure if he should. Rebecca isn't sure if she should be okay with it if he did. The concern in his face is resonating with hers, amplifying their emotions.

"Sam," she whispers, "What is Robert going to do to her? Please tell me."

"He's something called a Nachtkrapp. We're calling them wereravens. Wereravens eat children."

Rebecca puts a hand over her mouth, worried she's going to be sick. The idea had already crossed her mind, but she was clinging to the hope it was some less violent purpose that would give them more time.

This time, Sam does put a hand on her shoulder. She doesn't flinch away.

"Sam?"

He looks at Dean.

"Yeah?"

"Lorelei gave me an address. We have to drive around the bay. We're not going to beat him there but if we leave now, we won't be too far behind."

"How sure are we that he's going to be there?"

"Pretty sure. And it's all we got."

"Alright, then let's go."

"Are you going to kill Robert?" Lorelei asks.

"We're going to kill the thing that took four kids," Dean says as he exits the room. Lorelei follows him, leaving Olivia's parents alone.

Rebecca grabs Sam's wrist before he can leave.

"I want to go with you."

"You don't need to put yourself in danger, too."

"You put yourself in danger for people you don't know all the time. Olivia is my daughter. I don't care how much danger I'm in, she's in more."

"Can you fire a gun?"

"I've never used one," she admits.

"The other option is getting right up to the wereraven and using a knife."

"I'll do it for Olivia."

"Rebecca, if you run in there half-cocked, that's one more person Dean and I have to  _protect_. Putting yourself in danger like that won't help Olivia."

"I'll stay in the car."

"No you won't." Sam's face relaxes, probably the closest to a smile he can manage. He sees right through her.

_It was worth a shot._

"This is not just another search and rescue mission for me," he says. "I don't need to have watched her be born or have watched her grow to care about her. What I did to you was completely wrong, but... Olivia..."

When Rebecca found out she was pregnant and admitted to her family how it happened, her growing body became a badge of shame. She lost a lot of the people she thought were her friends; everyone she was close to judged her, especially when she revealed she was keeping her baby. Rebecca chose to separate herself from most of the people who saw Olivia as a symbol of Rebecca being irresponsible. Olivia is the product of someone else taking advantage of Rebecca being drunk, but she isn't a scarlet letter or a reminder of why Rebecca's life is wildly different from what she had imagined just five years ago. She is simply Olivia, precious and perfect, and Rebecca can't imagine giving her up for anything.

"I know."

"I'm going to save her," Sam repeats. His eyes flicker over Rebecca's face. "I swear."

* * *

 

**D**

The GPS says it will take about an hour and twenty minutes to get to where they're headed. Dean reckons they can make it in under 50 minutes. The speedometer doesn't go up to 120 for nothing.

"I knew I was forgetting something," Sam rants. "I fucking knew it. As I was saying goodbye to Rebecca at her apartment, I felt like there was something I should tell her. She had mentioned Lorelei Jordan and I should have said something-"

"We weren't sure, Sam. It was just a hunch we had. It was wrong anyway. Lorelei isn't the wereraven."

Sam doesn't need to mention Rebecca's first phone call.

"Hey, how did Rebecca have your other number?" Dean asks.

"I left a business card with the Jordans. Lorelei was calling me and Rebecca put two and two together."

Dean nods acknowledgment.

"So when we find the son of a bitch, what's the plan?" Sam says a few seconds later.

Dean takes one hand off the wheel to reach into his pocket and pull out a small bottle which he hands to Sam.

"Where'd you get this?"

"I asked Lorelei if she had any in her kitchen. Figured, middle-aged people, maybe they have a salt substitute. Lucky us, she did. And mentioned that Robert stopped using it a few weeks ago. We find that mother, we're killing him."

Sam can't seem to sit still. His hands are clenched and he's already drawn blood from biting his lower lip.

"Why did we think we could take the night off? Why did we think just because it wasn't the full moon, nobody was going to get hurt?"

On the heels of what Sam had said to him half an hour ago, Dean is not about to reveal that he wasn't actually taking the night off.

"Nobody bats a thousand."

"This is Olivia's life we're talking about. My daughter." Sam doesn't seem to care anymore if Big Brother might be watching.

Dean keeps his eyes on the road.

"If she's  _dead_ ," Sam says, "and I didn't even get to have one conversation with her as her dad..." He scoffs and shakes his head.

"Stop it, Sam. We're gonna take this one step at a time, okay? We don't know anything yet."

Sam stares out the window.

* * *

"Dean, where the fuck-"

"Here's the road." Dean turns onto a dirt road. "...Where's the house?"

Lorelei said the house and barn would be on the left side of the road. There's nothing but open fields under the night sky.

"There's a barn over there," Sam grits out, all patience evaporated.

Dean screeches to a halt twenty feet from the rotting doors of the ancient-looking building. He and Sam rush to the trunk to grab silver knives and flashlights. Sam checks the bullets in his gun and tucks it into his jeans.

"Silver bullets won't kill it," Dean says, tensing in case that somehow provokes Sam and he has to dodge a punch.

"Exactly," Sam growls without looking at his brother.

His little brother is scary when he's this invested in saving or avenging somebody, Dean decides.

Moonlight desaturates the world—everything is made of shadow and there are no distinguishable colors to speak of. The roof of the wooden barn is long collapsed, huge doors wide open and sagging on deteriorating rusted hinges.

It's quiet. Does that mean there's nothing here, or that it's too late?

As they pass through the archway, Sam shines his flashlight on a ladder leading up to the hayloft. It's intact, though covered in shingles.

"I'll check out the loft. Birds like high places, don't they?"

Dean cringes as he hears the wood protest against Sam's weight, but he doesn't waste time watching his brother. Seconds matter.

It's a large barn; horse stalls line both walls. Most are open. A couple doors are closed but the hinges still work, screeching when Dean applies the slightest pressure. He shines the flashlight in each quickly, scanning for signs that anyone or anything has been here in the past hour. At first the stalls are narrow, four feet wide, then there are larger stalls about twelve feet wide that he has to poke his head into.

As the search remains fruitless, Dean begins to think they're in the wrong place and his heart sinks even further. Olivia will be dead before they can find wherever she really is. Above him, Sam is frantically shoving things around, looking for his daughter. He's going to step on a rotten patch and fall through the floor, Dean thinks.

There are only three stalls he hasn't checked when the stench first hits him:

Rotting meat.

Dean covers his nose and mouth with his hand,  _knowing_  it's the smell of Nate, Alexis, and Dylan's bodies, there for four, three, and two days respectively.

The next stall he checks is empty.

"Olivia, please cry," he whispers as a prayer. "Don't be dead. Don't do this to Sammy."

Dean lowers his flashlight as he approaches the next stall. The wall and part of the hayloft above the stall have caved in, letting moonlight stream in.

Even with ventilation, when he pokes his head through the splintery doorway, the pungency is sickening. The added scent of fresh blood makes it even worse because that means Olivia is or was here, but she's not making any sound.

The flashlight illuminates what Dean guesses are the remains of the three children in the corner to his left. There's some movement on the skin of the body closest to him. A fraction of a second later he recognizes it as maggots and has to swallow the bile in his throat.

_Where's Olivia? And where's Robert?_

Dean shifts the beam of his flashlight towards the center of the stall where a fourth small body lies. Before Dean can gauge whether it's breathing, he hears a soft footfall behind him and it doesn't sound like Sam. He whirls around. What's standing behind him definitely isn't Sam.


	9. And Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pronouns I used for the wereraven when writing were female, then "it," then male, and then back to "it." Apologies in advance if I failed to correct them all.
> 
> Supernatural (c) the CW

**S**

As Sam moves yet another wooden beam out of the way, he wishes he were wearing gloves. He's going to be picking splinters out of his palms and fingers for days. He treads carefully through the mess of shingles, moss, and what used to be studs but are too far gone to be called such. Anywhere a small child might be hiding or hidden, he looks.

He can hear doors being opened below him when the hinges scream. Light peeks through the gaps between the floorboards as Dean sweeps the flashlight around.

Sam hopes his brother doesn't notice that the only sound under Sam's feet is the occasional ripping and tearing of wood fibers. Sometimes the floor gives way a little under his weight, but he pushes on. He can't stop. Olivia has to be here, because if she isn't, Sam and Dean don't have a snowflake's chance in hell of finding her in time.

The sounds of Dean conducting his own search get fainter as Dean moves ahead. Then there's a silence and Sam hears a different sound, like something heavy falling.

"Sam!"

"Dean?"

There's no response. Sam dares to take longer strides forward, ignoring the the fact that running is probably more likely to send him crashing through the floor in a shower of splinters.

Ahead of him is a large hole in the floor. Sam drops to his knees when he gets to it and rips the wood up to make it large enough to fit through. He sees the Nachtkrapp looking up at him from below. Hard to believe it's the same creature as the man he met earlier. It really is like a gigantic raven, though not so gigantic it can reach the hayloft just by stretching its neck.

The wereraven does stretch out its neck, but only to open its long beak and croak. It's loud and Sam cringes, but once the hole in the floor is large enough, he drops through, kicking at the wereraven's head before he lets go. He doesn't expect to hit it, only get a little extra time.

He lands on his feet, blinking in the darkness. His flashlight is still up in the loft; he can make out something on the ground near the wall that looks like Dean's, broken. His brother is lying motionless on the ground, Sam hopes only knocked out.

The wereraven's feathers are glossy even with the minimal lighting. Unlike in its human form, it's about as tall as Sam is. It's hard to tell, though, when it's jabbing its head at the hunter, trying to peck him. Sam dodges the humongous beak, getting closer and closer to the monster until he can jump onto its back.

The wereraven's body isn't as big as the feathers made it seem; now it's difficult to know where to hold on. Sam's various initial plans once he was on the wereraven are canceled and he struggles to hang on.

The thing is clever, as anything in the shape of a raven should be, using everything it has against Sam. It beats its wings together above its back and Sam has to duck to avoid being knocked out cold between them.

Then the wereraven reaches around and Sam gets a good up-close-and-personal look at the beak—a little over a foot long, slightly curved, and sharp-looking—before the monster pecks at his face. He wrenches his head out of the way in time and it hits his left shoulder. Its beak hurts just as much as he thought it would, but at least it doesn't feel like it broke skin.  _That bruise is gonna last a full month._

He tries a sharp tug on some feathers on the other side of the bird's neck. The wereraven croaks in protest and Sam has time to get his gun out. A shot to the base of the neck, maybe. If he hits the spinal cord, he could possibly paralyze it.

The gun is gone from his hand before he gets off a shot. Sam's fingers and thumb are sliced open by the wereraven's beak as it pecks him. The gun falls to the ground; the wereraven picks it up and flings it yards away.

Sam hesitates to draw his knife. If he uses his right hand like normal, he risks getting blood in the wound. Becoming a wereraven is not something he wants to add to the list of insane shit that happened to him today. Left hand it is. His maimed shoulder makes the quick draw he was going for into an ordeal in itself. Pushing through the pain to draw and raise the blade isn't that hard at first but he pays dearly as he tries to put force into stabbing the giant bird.

The shrieks are so loud Sam wonders if he's going to lose his hearing for good as he pushes the blade into the wereraven's flesh over and over. The silver is making the flesh burn; he can smell it. He isn't piercing the heart, though; the monster isn't dying. It's flapping its wings again, this time trying to achieve enough lift to shake Sam off and fly away. As Sam stabs into the front of the bird again, he feels the chest muscles moving with the wing. It's making the tip of the knife scrape back and forth against the breastbone, deep in the wereraven's flesh.

 _Bird anatomy,_  Sam realizes. _I'm not going to get to the heart from this angle. So where do I shank it?_

He doesn't waste stamina on repeatedly stabbing the wereraven while he tries to think of the path of least resistance to its heart.

Then there's another screech from the wereraven as its right wing is stilled. Dean has come to and he twists the wing again, producing another cry of pain and breaking bones. Sam can feel them crack through the bird's body.

"Sam!" Dean makes a throat-slitting gesture.

With his right hand, Sam grabs a handful of feathers on the back of the bird's head. He yanks back and grunts in pain as he raises his left arm one more time to draw the blade across the wereraven's throat. He lets the knife fall as soon as it's done. The creature struggles for a few seconds, flapping its free wing, but as its blood pours out, it collapses.

Dean helps Sam to his feet, pulling him away from the wereraven's still-breathing form and the growing pool of blood.

"What happened? Did you find Olivia?" Sam asks.

"It came up behind me. Dunno where it was before."

"What about Olivia?"

"Haven't found her yet." Then Dean gestures to Sam's bleeding digits. "Are those cuts from the wereraven?"

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure no blood-"

"Go back to the car and bandage it.  _Now._ "

Sam hesitates.

"I'll take care of Big Bird and keep looking. You really wanna risk turning into this thing?"

"...Stab it under the wing," Sam advises before turning and heading back to the car.

* * *

**D**

Dean isn't ready to face his brother when Sam finds out Olivia is dead.

He plunges the silver knife coated with potash into the body of the Nachtkrapp; it's dead and reverted to human form before Sam is out of the barn. He turns back to the stall where he found the kids and steps inside, ignoring the source of the stink of meat. His flashlight is broken and he doesn't know where Sam's is. But it's better to approach the little body by moonlight. The injuries clear to him already from six feet away...

This child can't be alive.

He drops to his knees and kneels next to her. He studies the shape of her face, searching for similarities. What if this isn't Olivia, then maybe Olivia is somewhere else and alive, maybe things will be okay.

It's only a few seconds before Dean closes his eyes in defeat. He knows Sam's face as well as he knows his own and he'd recognize it anywhere. That's Sam's daughter all right. Olivia.

Olivia what? Dean never even asked Sam what her last name was. It doesn't matter much anymore. She's  _dead—_ Olivia Winchester is an accurate name, even if it isn't her real name.

He opens his eyes to look down at her again. Little kids, toddlers, shouldn't die, and they definitely shouldn't die like this. Not with flesh missing from her bones, not bloody. The wereraven had been eating away at one arm when it must have heard Sam and Dean and hid in the horse stall opposite. It was probably almost done with it; even if Olivia were still alive, she'd probably never regain use of that arm. The rest of her is peppered with miscellaneous scratches and puncture wounds from the wereraven's claws.

Dean shrugs out of his jacket and wraps it around Olivia's body as he scoops her up. He's recalled a motto: a person isn't dead until they're warm and dead. Hypothermia isn't what killed her, but being flown across Chesapeake Bay with only one thin layer of pajamas protecting her from the wind probably helped her to the other side. To humor Sam, he'll start warming her up. Blood seeps into his shirt; he ignores it and holds Olivia close to him.

He still can't face Sam yet.

Dean sits in the corner farthest from the decaying flesh, knees drawn partly up, arms cradling his niece.

"Y'know, I've been hunting ghosts almost my whole life, and I've died, I dunno, four or five times at least, but I still don't know if talking to dead people works after they take the elevator up. I don't know if you can really hear me, Olivia. But if you're still around, I want you to listen to me.

"I don't know if you figured out that Sam is your dad. Hell, he didn't know until today, either. He would've done anything to save you from this. ...Things he wouldn't do for  _me_  right now. I think right now you're the person he cares about the most. And that really means something, kid. When your dad cares about something, a lot, not much is gonna stop him. ...I- I stopped him from doing something a little while back. Maybe you saw it, in that old church? I don't regret it, but now he doesn't trust me, so- so now... I just hope Sammy doesn't try anything stupid to get you back. Because I won't be able to talk him out of it."

Dean blinks back some tears as he sniffles and exhales. It doesn't help; his voice still comes out broken.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, your mom and dad love you. Your mom did her best taking care of you; Sam did his best to save you. I want you to know that, in case they don't get a chance to tell you. They love you. They're sorry, and I'm sorry... I'm sorry that you died in pain, scared, alone, and when you're just a little kid... I'm sorry that me and Sam didn't protect you from this, because we're hunters and we should've kept you safe."

He strokes Olivia's hair, avoiding the stiff strands he suspects are held together by dried blood. He closes his eyes again and rests his head against the wall.

"God damn it," Dean whispers as his amen.

This is going to just kill Sam. Maybe literally. Dean doesn't know by whose hand, but somehow this might actually kill his brother and then what the hell will he do?

Nothing, Dean realizes. Earlier today he told Sam that he'd let him go after he held his kid.

He's holding Sam's kid.

Tears spill from his eyes as he chuckles at the sick irony.

Then Dean hears something outside the stall, roughly in the direction of the Nachtkrapp's body. He can't see anything from this angle.

"Sam?"

No response. Dean sets Olivia down carefully so he can investigate.

The Nachtkrapp looks just as dead as it did before. Dean does his best to scan his surroundings in the dark and fails miserably until he spies some light outside through what used to be the other set of barn doors. It's just a large, rotting, slightly mossy square hole in one end of the barn now.

Sam comes around the corner, lantern in hand.

"Dean? I came back going 'round on the outside to- Oh my  _god_ , Dean!" He gapes at the blood on Dean's shirt.

Dean glances at the large damp patch staining the front of his shirt. He slowly raises his eyes to see his little brother approaching him, eyes pleading with Dean:  _Don't say it, Dean, please don't say it. Please. Don't._

When they're just under two arm's lengths apart and Dean hasn't said a word, Sam stops.

"Dean, is- is that..." Sam breaks eye contact for a couple seconds. He fails to collect himself completely, just as Dean failed. He rasps, "Is that her blood?"

Dean swallows hard.


	10. In Loco Parentis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"Endings are hard. [...] You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. [...] There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something."_  
>  -Supernatural 5x22 Swan Song
> 
> There will be one more chapter after this but it's the beginning of the end so I think this quote belongs here.
> 
> I apologize for pretty much everything about this chapter.
> 
> _In loco parentis_ is Latin for "in the place of a parent."

**S**

Dean can't answer. Sam's heart, beating frantically ever since he found out Olivia was gone, stops dead in his chest.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no. No, she can't... No... No, Dean... We have to-" Sam's vision blurs and he tries to blink it away. "No," he gasps out one more time.

"In there," Dean says, gesturing to one of the doorways.

Sam shoves past him. His steps turn to staggers when Olivia's body, wrapped in Dean's jacket, comes into view.

"Olivia..."

He sets the light down on the floor and reaches for her with a shaking hand. He never touched her before. As he feels the tears rolling down his cheeks, he wonders if maybe he shouldn't. He doesn't want to remember her like that, even if they get her back somehow.

Sam lays his fingers against her little cheek. Olivia's skin is tepid, probably from Dean holding her.

"Olivia," he repeats, his voice thickening with emotion with every syllable. "I'm so sorry."

She's a little big to be held like an infant, but Sam scoops his daughter up in his arms all the same. He cradles her like a newborn, the way a father should hold a daughter for the first time.

As he does, he thinks he hears her breathe.

"Olivia?" He waits, holding his own breath, not even letting himself think for fear he'll miss the next one. He feels for a pulse in her neck.

It's slow, but it's there. Some of the life returns to Sam's body.

Olivia isn't dead.

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean's been been standing in the doorway, wiping his knife clean.

"She's still alive!"

"Are you sure?" Dean's tone is more skeptical than anything else but he wants to believe, Sam can see it in his face.

"She has a pulse, I think she's breathing. Call- call Cas!" Sam rises to his feet. He begs Olivia as he carries her to the car: "C'mon Olivia, stay with us. I promised your mom."

Castiel appears as the brothers reach the car. He doesn't look good; the way he's holding himself, he ought to be covered with bruises and abrasions.

"Sam? Dean?"

"Cas, she's alive, but she needs help. She's lost a lot of blood, she's chilled," Sam says, stammering half his words out of worry. Once Olivia is out of the woods, Sam can be courteous out loud. He  _is_  grateful Cas came, whatever Dean said to get him over here.

Understanding the urgency, Castiel doesn't ask stupid questions before stepping forward and touching two fingers to the child's forehead. Then he pauses and frowns.

"What is it?"

"She doesn't need my help. She's not human, she's going to heal herself."

"What do you mean, she's not human?" Sam and Dean ask in unison.

"There's something in her blood."

"She has demon blood in her," Sam snaps. The words are foul in his mouth. "That-"

Castiel cuts him off, his tone sharp:

"No, Sam, something  _else_. Azazel's blood means nothing. She's turning into a creature I've never encountered before. I think it's the Nachtkrapp Dean mentioned in his prayer."

A suffocating silence follows.

"You mean its blood got into her."

Castiel nods. All fall silent and Sam looks down at Olivia's face, still unconscious.

_No._

"When did the blood get into her? How-" Dean starts to ask before Sam cuts him off.

"Don't answer that, Cas. Can you turn her back?"

"I'm sorry, Sam. I can't cleanse her blood of it. The process is starting. Look." Cas takes Dean's knife and before Sam can back away he lays the flat of the silver blade against Olivia's arm. She shifts in Sam's arms and he can smell burnt skin.

He shoves Cas away, trying to conceal the shudders of boiling rage as he stalks away, holding Olivia closer to him. Someone was careless and let wereraven blood get into her wounds. She's going to turn into a monster. It makes Sam sick to think of it, just more shit being put onto her plate. And the choice he's being given.

He leans against the frame of the car, facing away from Dean and Cas and the barn, just the colorless moonlit fields before him. His veins turn to ice as realization dawns.

"Cas, can you give us a minute?"

Dean and Cas had been talking softly, probably Cas asking questions about who Olivia is. They shut up and Dean rounds the car and faces his brother, knowing Sam has something to say.

"Dean, did you do this on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"The wereraven blood. Did you make this happen?"

"No! Do you think I'd do something like-"

"After Gadreel? Yeah, I do."

Dean looks at his feet. He crosses his arms and uncrosses them, adjusting his stance before responding.

"I didn't, Sam. God's honest."

Sam keeps his eyes on Olivia's face. It keeps him calm to focus on her rare breaths and how they're growing more frequent, depite what it means. He smooths her hair back. He can't bring himself to take Dean's word for it.

"I want to believe you so fucking bad."

"Believe me or don't. But she'll live, Sam."

"As a wereraven," Sam scoffs. "Don't think I'm coming to you for advice on what to do when my family has to die or become something dangerous."

Dean looks up, silent gasp obvious in his expression.

"Isn't that her mom's decision? I mean, Rebecca-"

"It's my decision whether to ask Rebecca if she wants that. We know more about wereravens than she does. We know better than she does what the risks are."

Dean nods.

There's still too much emotion inside of Sam's body; he's going to explode if he lets himself think about it too much.

"Fourteen hours ago, I didn't know I had a kid, and now I have to decide whether to-" Sam's voice breaks. "I feel like a hypocrite for even considering letting her live like this. She's going to hate me for it."

Dean leans against the car by Sam's side, but he's drawing into himself, folding his arms.

"Do you hate me, Sam?"

"...I have to decide whether it's worth the risk or not. If she hurts someone, it's on me," Sam replies after some thought. "Even if she can live on animal hearts and never hurts anyone, she'll probably be pissed at me for it. I made her  _different_  just by being her dad. I can't make her into even more of a freak. She's gonna be friggin' Princess Fiona three nights a month."

"You said yourself neither of us is gonna have kids and you're right. No one can blame you for not having your only kid killed."

"...You're right, she will be my only kid. Even if I got out, I'm not gonna let another kid be born and have to deal with visions and dreams and headaches and knowing there's something wrong with them." Sam wants so badly to convince himself to let her live. "And... I promised Rebecca I would save her."

Dean perks up.

"Hey Sam, what if there's a cure? What if there's a way to change a wereraven back into a human?"

The hope that springs up inside Sam is quashed in a second by the memory of Madison.

"What, like there was for a werewolf?" he scoffs. That's when he knows. Any further conversation is just stalling; Olivia is going to die tonight. He's probably going to have to stab her in the heart. Her soul will go to Purgatory unless Cas can swing something.

"Like there is for a vampire!"

Sam looks up at his brother. Dean is almost as desperate as he is and for the second time that night he feels emotion resonating.

"No, Dean. I'm not taking the chance. Not unless we know for certain. I'm not bringing Rebecca back her daughter only to take her away four weeks later." He closes his eyes and calls out: "Castiel." The angel appears before he opens his eyes again—Sam wonders how many times Cas has just turned invisible instead of leaving. "Can you kill- Can you do it? Without hurting her?"

"Possibly."

"Can you make it look like something the wereraven did?" Dean asks. "She hasn't started healing yet. If we can tell Rebecca that it was too late when we got here..."

Castiel nods. Sam closes his eyes. Might as well do it now.

"Sam?" Sam's eyes fly open when he hears his name being spoken by someone new. Someone young. "Where's my mommy?"

Olivia is looking up at him, eyes watering, frightened. She's probably one wrong answer away from bawling.

"She's... she's back at Lorelei's house. Dean and I came here to rescue you from the thing that took you."

"Is it gone?"

"Yes, Olivia. It's dead. You're..." Sam looks up at Dean and Cas. They're both watching him with pity-drenched expressions as he lies: "...safe now."

"My arm hurts," she whimpers. Laid open to the bone, of course it does, Sam thinks. But she's used to headaches as bad as the ones Sam had, bad enough the first couple brought tears to his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Olivia. We'll take care of that soon." Sam adjusts her in his arms, trying to relieve pressure on anything that might be hurting her. He holds her more upright so she's closer to eye level. "...There's something I want to tell you, Olivia. It might be hard to believe."

"What?"

Sam clears his throat a couple times before he can choke out the words:

"I'm your dad."

Olivia studies him.

"You're my daddy?"

"That's right." Sam forces a smile.

The little girl contemplates the information. Sam is stricken by fear that she'll be unhappy with the knowledge, but she seems to accept it quietly. Maybe she already guessed.

"Will you stay with Mommy and me?"

"Yes," Sam says without hesitation. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas is stepping closer. Sam shakes his head a little. He needs justanother minute.

Olivia winces in pain as she reaches with her good hand towards Sam's face. Her hand should be warmer as it rests on his cheek and it unsettles him. Another tear falls from his eye and it rolls over his daughter's fingers.

"Why are you sad?" she asks.

"I'm, uh... I'm not sad, Olivia. ...Until I met you today, I didn't know I had a daughter and I'm happy I met you. I know you don't feel like everybody else, but it's okay. You're not alone; you're like me. I'm just-" Sam exhales. His voice shakes as he finishes: "I'm sorry I've never been there for you."

He looks at Dean. As hard as it is for Sam to accept him as his brother right now, Dean deserves a chance to talk to Olivia. But he shakes his head, ostensibly fighting the urge to turn away from the scene as Castiel takes another step closer.

Sam honestly doesn't know if he'd rather face it alone, what's about to happen.

"It's gonna be okay, Olivia," Sam says to his daughter, looking straight into her eyes. Dean will never get to see how they match his. Sam blinks away more tears. He wishes they'd stop. Even a two year old can see through a man who can't stop crying. "It's gonna be okay."

Castiel touches the back of her head.

Sam shuts his eyes tight as the hand falls and he feels the small body go limp. He lets out one quiet sob.

"I've put her into a deep sleep. She won't feel anything." Castiel's hands try to take Olivia from him but Sam can't let go. He just can't.

"Sam." Dean's hand is on his shoulder. It's shrugged off.

_Just a little longer._

It doesn't make sense even to Sam that it hurts so much to lose a daughter he didn't know he had. But it was more than that. This was his chance to help a child who would be like him; he could say the right things to her, tell her exactly what he would have wanted to hear when he was in her place. This was his chance to save somebody by being a hunter instead of getting them killed. This was his chance to have a beautiful daughter. This was his chance to rebuild his family. This might have even been his chance to get out of the Life. And he blew those chances, all of them.

"Sam, are you sure you don't want to talk to Rebecca first?"

His arguments spring to mind: he's Olivia's father so he should have a say, it's his fault she was poisoned with the blood, he's more qualified to make this decision. Yet he remains silent as he tries to regulate his breathing. Seconds, minutes later—he can't tell—he feels as ready as he'll ever be.

"Cas," Sam says, "If it's not too late, make sure she gets into Heaven."

"I will try my best."

Sam lets the angel gently pry his daughter away. Without Olivia in his arms distracting him, Sam nearly collapses from sheer emotional exhaustion. He slumps against the car, not opening his eyes until he feels Dean gripping him by the forearms.

It's not until he tugs his arm free that Sam notices how much his shoulder hurts from when the wereraven pecked him. He's glad it hurts; right now he doesn't care if he's in pain for the rest of his life. He touches Dean's bloody shirt, then grabs a fistful of the damp fabric.

"Dean, if I  _ever_  find out you did this on purpose..." More tears spill out onto his cheeks as he clenches his fist so hard he wrings out blood. The dark droplets run over his white knuckles. "I will make your life the living hell you would have made Olivia's."

Dean doesn't even have to nod to say that Sam is understood. He lets go and backs off. Sam manages to stand on his own two feet and he turns to Castiel.

"Did you do it?"

"It's done." Castiel gives Olivia's body back to Sam and promptly vanishes, hopefully to go intimidate a reaper.

Sam's not letting go of Olivia again to anyone but her mother.

"We need to bring her back to Rebecca." He fishes his phone out of his pocket. "We can clean this place up later."

Dean hesitates but he sees Sam isn't going to budge on this so he opens the door for Sam and closes it after Sam slides into the passenger seat, Olivia in his arms.

Sam sits staring at nothing until Dean gets into the car. He makes a decision: he will tell Rebecca the truth. If she hates him forever for it, so be it. He does, too.


	11. Coda

**D**

Dean waits for Sam to finish the phone call before he starts the car, cringing as he listens to Sam inform Rebecca that Olivia is dead.

He doesn't try to engage Sam in conversation during the drive. Every once in a while he steals a glance at his brother hugging the child's body close, as if trying to make up for the two and a half lost years. Or maybe the years that won't happen.

Dean parks outside of the Jordans' house less than an hour after Sam makes the call.

"Wait here," Sam says.

Dean nods and Sam gets out of the car. The front door of the house opens with Lorelei behind it. She's crying silently as she waits for Sam to come up the walkway and pass through. She closes the door behind him and then Dean doesn't hear anything from the house for a long time. He was expecting devastated screams or sobs. Turns out Rebecca is taking it quietly, or she fainted.

The silence leaves Dean with little to do but reflect on what a complete and utter pile of shit this job was. And, eventually, wonder if Cas succeeded.

"Castiel-"

"Dean." The angel is sitting in the passenger seat before Dean finishes his prayer.

"Did she make it to Heaven?"

"Tell Sam that she made it."

"So no."

"Heaven is closed to everyone. Angels, reapers, souls... especially souls that belong in Purgatory."

Dean and Castiel spent enough time in Purgatory to know what's going to happen to her. At least it should be over quickly.

"...God, I was so stupid coming here with Sam. He was pissed when he woke up and he- he doesn't even want to be  _brothers_  anymore. Because I saved him."

"When he was dying, you asked him to let you help, and he  _chose_  to accept."

"Well now he knows what he said yes to, he hates me."

Cas sighs. He's developed some attitude in the years since they met, and especially since spending a good four months as a human.

"Have you ever hated Sam?"

"No."

"Then why do you think he hates you?" At this point, Cas is less sympathetic than he is exasperated.

"You tellin' me you didn't go Invisible Man on us back there?" Dean scoffs.

"Sam isn't afraid to be honest. He never said he hated you."

Dean thinks about it for a while. He decides not to argue. The phrase  _afraid to be honest_  echoes in his head.

"Cas, we have to tell the truth if Sam asks about Olivia. He can't take any more lies."

Castiel nods in agreement.

"You think it really was the yellow-eyed demon's blood in her?" Dean asks a few pensive seconds later. "Nobody dosed her up?"

"The demon blood I sensed in her was not from an ordinary demon and it was less... concentrated. I believe it was from Sam."

The front door opens before Dean has time to respond. The angel disappears.

Sam looks straight ahead as he makes his way to the car, gets in, and closes the door.

"How- uh... how's Rebecca?" Dean asks.

Sam speaks in a stiff, controlled monotone.

"She lost her daughter. And I didn't lie to her. I think you can make a good guess, Dean."

Dean doesn't want to. They probably have a time table before she calls the cops.

"Lorelei?"

"Upset. Guilty."

"...You?"

Sam finally faces him, and as Dean takes in his little brother's expression, he's floored by it. Dean has seen literally tortured souls before, in Hell where there's no disguising a damaged psyche, and Sam's face is the closest to the face of a tortured soul than Dean has seen in a long, long time. Maybe it's because he knows Sam so well, it's almost like the defenseless, unmasked state of damned souls.

"Don't," is all Sam says to him. He turns away again, taking a deep breath and then letting it out, keeping himself together. "Don't," he repeats in a whisper, and Dean realizes Sam isn't just talking to him.

* * *

At the motel, they change out of their bloody clothes. They don't need to burn them but they will anyway, just in case.

They do need to go back to the barn. Dean suggests he go alone. The brothers agree without saying a word to each other that Sam shouldn't be around Robert's corpse, for the corpse's safety.

* * *

Going home, Dean drives and Sam spends a lot of time pretending to be asleep. Dean finds out when he glances over and sees a shining tear track on Sam's face—people don't cry in their sleep.

Sam declines to eat or drink anything Dean offers him, or even respond to anything Dean says with more than one or two words. Usually the words are "No," or "I'm fine."

* * *

It's the morning after they get back and Dean hasn't seen or heard from his brother in a few hours. Last he knew, Sam was in his bedroom.

He finds Sam slumped over the kitchen table, face buried in his arms. There's a bottle of whiskey next to him, half empty and in danger of being elbowed off the table. Probably snuck out with the car and bought it, Dean guesses.

As Dean steps into the room, he notices a shattered glass on the floor, as if Sam intended to use it but ultimately couldn't be bothered.

Sam lifts up his head at the sound of footsteps.

"Hey," Dean greets.

Sam looks at him for about two seconds before squeezing his eyes shut and resting his face in his hands with his elbows on the table.

Dean stands there looking at his little brother. When Sam had Gadreel in him he said he felt really good for the first time in his life. Taking that away, plus Kevin's death, plus a reminder of things they'll never have... of course he's going to try to drink himself into a stupor.

Dean debates leaving Sam alone with the scotch and ends up deciding to offer his presence. He slips into the seat across from Sam.

"I'm sorry, Sam." His voice cracks more than he wanted it to.

"Doan apologize, Dean," Sam slurs. "We both fucked up. T's'not your fault. You di'n know."

Dean waits instead of asking what exactly he's referencing because Sam isn't done. The younger man lowers his hands and squints at Dean. His voice raises.

"But at the fuckin' hospital... you did know. You  _knew_  I was ready to die, that I'd  _rather_  die than live with an angel inside me, and you did the opposite of what you fucking knew I wanted!" He pounds the table with his fist and shouts, "Why aren't you sorry for that, Dean?!"

"I'm not sorry you're alive."  _Never have been, never will be._

"Well I  _am_ ," Sam informs him without a shred of mercy. He slides the bottle in front of him, studying it. He continues, calm at first but a tear on his cheek by the end: "I'm sorry to Kevin, 'cause if he's dead 'cause a'me, I need to make this- this chapter of my life mean something. For him. ...I got another chance t'help people, Dean. Save lives. I di'n wannit but I got it, and  _this_  is what I fuckin' did with it. I killed Olivia. So tell me, why should I feel  _good_  about being alive right now?"

Dean almost replies,  _"Same reason as always. You and me, fighting the good fight together,"_  except he isn't sure anymore if that's true. Sam notices the hurt on his face.

"Don't lookit me like- I don't- M'not gonna..." Sam gives up with a sigh and gulps a couple shots' worth from the bottle. "I'm goin' to sleep." He stands up, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself.

Dean gets up in case he needs to save his little brother from falling into broken glass. He decides not to mention it's mid-morning, just help Sam to bed and keep an eye on him.

Sam stumbles trying to reach the doorway of the kitchen. Dean grips him by the arms like he did outside the barn. This time, instead of waiting for Sam to make the next move, he instinctively wraps his arms around his brother. If Sam were sober, he'd probably punch Dean; maudlin, he accepts the hug but doesn't return it, simply leaning into his brother. Soon his body is shaking with silent sobs.

"Our lives revolve around saving people, Dean. Our whole lives. I could've saved my daughter's life. I failed her," Sam whimpers. His tears fall onto Dean's neck.

Dean doesn't say his thoughts aloud:  _You saved her from turning into a monster, Sammy._  That won't comfort Sam. Nothing he can say right now will make Sam feel better. Nothing true, anyway.

* * *

The Nachtkrapp job isn't really done, Dean realizes soon after Sam slinks off to his bedroom. If Robert only started taking kids this past lunar cycle, he was probably turned in the past month, unless he had somehow been living off animal hearts. That means another wereraven. The question is whether Dean should go back to Maryland himself, or find another hunter to do it. Leaving Sam alone for two days isn't an option.

Either way, he decides, it's a good idea to look up what the Men of Letters have on Nachtkrapp.

The first two books that mention Nachtkrappen don't have any information the Winchesters haven't already learned. Dean gets more and more frustrated as the hours tick by. On the other hand, neither source implies that wereravens can live off anything but the hearts of children, so Dean starts to feel more certain that Sam made the right decision.

Finally, in a dusty corner of the library he finds a huge tome entitled  _On Species Pregnable to the Argentine_. He almost passes over it, but on a hunch he looks up the definition of argentine—after he does, he wonders why they couldn't have just called the book something closer to  _Monsters That Are Hurt By Silver Things_.

The section on Nachtkrapp is several pages long and has a ridiculous amount of detail, some of which is new and useful to Dean. Then he turns the page and sees the final subheading.

A cold feeling washes over Dean. He doesn't get past the first paragraph before he slams the book shut so hard it echos in the room, and shoves it halfway across the table.

"Son of a bitch." He puts his head in his hands, leaning on the table, and stays that way for a few minutes.

Eventually he drags the book back in front of him and opens it up again. After skimming over the last subsection, he carefully rips out the offending page. He folds it up and puts it in his pocket.

After putting the book back where it belongs and checking to make sure Sam is still asleep, he calls Cas.

"Is Sam all right?" are the first words out of Castiel's mouth after he sees Dean's face.

"...No. But he isn't pointing a gun at his head or anything." Dean takes out the small rectangle of folded paper and turns it over and over in his hands as he talks. "I have to go back to finish the Nachtkrapp job. Alone. Can you keep an eye on Sam for a few days?"

"Of course, Dean."

"And, uh..." Dean unfolds the paper and hands it to Cas. "You didn't know this, did you."

The angel needs less than a second to read the entire page. His expression tightens and he shakes his head no. Dean takes the paper back.

"I'm gonna put this somewhere Sam'll never look," he tells Castiel. "I mean... he's gonna get through it, what he's dealing with right now. But if he finds out about  _this_ , now, he'll lose it. He'll go fucking crazy. He'd feel like killing himself. I think he'd try. And I can't..." Dean shakes his head.

"If you don't want him to find this paper, you should destroy it."

"I can't do that. This, here, is the only thing we've got that tells us how to cure a Nachtkrapp."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end. Roll credits because a.) I said at the beginning that this is like an episode of SPN and b.) there's no way I'm not thanking the people that helped me finish a relatively long story for the first time in 4 years.
> 
> Damien - Plot problem fixer, Beta listener, Critiquer  
> Diana - Beta reader  
> Jennifer - Beta reader, miscellanous  
> klu - Chief reviewer on ff.net, Surprise plot problem fixer  
> my mom - [Underutilized] child development reference  
> you - Awesome reader/follower/reviewer
> 
> References Explained/Extra Info:
> 
> Title: I took the title of the episode when Adam is introduced and added "The Next Generation" because of Star Trek: TNG.
> 
> Chapter 2: Agents George Harrison and Richard Starkey because I came up with those aliases early in my SPN watching before I realized that Dean wouldn't be into the Beatles.
> 
> Chapter 5: Rebecca and Olivia's surname should have been revealed by this point, but it never came up in the dialogue. It is Patterson, and Olivia's full name is Olivia Mae Patterson.
> 
> Chapter 6: Sam's message does in fact contain the answer to life, the universe, and everything. (Count the words.)
> 
> Chapter 11: The final twist was conceived very late—while finishing up chapter 9 for publishing. When my beta read it she slammed my netbook shut and shoved it at me.
> 
> _...Oh my god, I finished a story._


End file.
